Starfox: Sunrise Over Lylat
by Erico
Summary: Seventy five years after the Lylat Wars, and everything's changed. How predictable. And if Fox's granddaughter can't get her head put on right, there won't be enough of a Lylat System left to fly in. Good luck, Starfox.
1. A Change of Career

_**STARFOX LEGENDS: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric 'Erico' Lawson

CHAPTER ONE: A CHANGE OF CAREER

Some public buildings had definitely seen better days. Considering this one was less than 50 years old, time had proven itself to be no easy mistress. More like a slavedriver. Cracks in the paint, scratch marks, partly rusted metals...and the toilet they had in here was stopped up. Nothing in it, thankfully...not like she felt the need to use it and add to the problem.

Of all the places Ter thought she would be this Friday night, a jail cell was not one of them. She could just hear her mother now...

_"Blast it, Terrany Anne...I didn't raise you to act like this!"_

No, she hadn't, Terrany Anne McCloud mused, looking at the floor. That had been her father's doing. Max McCloud, the son of the legendary Fox McCloud, who in turn was the son of revered ace pilot James McCloud. If one thing ran through the blood of the McCloud clan, it was fury.

Terrany reminded herself that she had somehow ended up with all of her generation's. That was why she was in here.

"And just what sort of defense should I offer?" She mused, leaning back against the wall and pulling her flight jacket tighter around herself. Indeed...what kind of defense did one offer when fifteen men from the local pub ended up in the infirmary over, of all things, a spilled glass of Therka?

Insanity? No, Terrany was quite sure she was in full control of her faculties. Wouldn't want that any other way. That time of the month? Please. No, there was only one excuse she could offer, and it wasn't a pleasant one. Not one she wanted to talk about at all.

Just then, a loud creaking at the end of the 'one night' jail cell hall indicated the main door to the rest of the police station was being opened up. Terrany rolled her eyes when she heard the footsteps. One pair was loud and plodding...the jailer. The other was crisp and military, perfect in every way.

Figures...he probably came by to rub it in.

Bastard.

The footsteps drew nearer and then stopped in front of her cell. Still, Terrany didn't bother to look up. She knew who was there, she didn't need visual confirmation. Her hearing was far above normal, the Academy tests had shown that, the combat sims had only confirmed it.

"You've been released." The door swung open, and Terrany walked out, finally looking up at the bright lights.

Two figures appeared…The jailer, and a twentysomething hunk of a brown furred fox. The fox shook his head sadly.

"Sis, what am I gonna do with you??"

* * *

She brushed a loose strand of hair out away from her eyes and looked out of the hovercar towards the Katina skyline. Anything to not look at him…Mr. Perfect. Mr. graduated with honors. Mr. commander of his squadron.

Mr. she couldn't believe was her brother.

Carl James McCloud. "Skip" to his wingmen and closest friends. A perfect model of everything that was perfect and legendary. Firm, muscular body tone, rock hard ab muscles, above average intelligence, grace, wit, charm, and that brown fur that made a McCloud so easily identifiable.

And then there was her. Young vixen Terrany Anne McCloud, the inheritor of the title 'black sheep'. Hotheaded temperament, blazing green eyes, and a bleached fur that in daylight looked as white as snow, but at night and in dim lighting, seemed to take on a sheen of periwinkle blue. Everything that was good and familiar and evident in her brother was startlingly missing with her. Their mother said that it made life interesting.

Terrany thought it made life close to shit.

"Terrany, why do you get into these things?" Carl sighed, looking over to her from the wheel. Ter didn't bother to look at him.

_Maybe because I actually have the balls to beat the crap out of people who throw insults at our family name??_

"Mom's not the least bit happy. Of course, she wasn't that happy when you got thrown out of the Academy, either, but…"

"Oh, SHUT IT." Ter snapped, turning away from the consoling sunrise and staring ahead at the road with those fiery eyes. "No big loss."

"A very big loss." Carl echoed calmly. "Your permanent record…now has that mark of dishonorable discharge. Your chance to get a job has been halved…if not worse. As far as getting a job as a pilot ANYWHERE, good luck."

"Well, aren't we supportive." Terrany mumbled.

Carl rubbed at his forehead with a free hand. "God, sometimes Terrany, you make me want to…" He exhaled loudly and shook his head. "What's worse is that you're a McCloud…"

_AHA. There it is. I KNEW he couldn't leave this thing out of his conversation._

"There's a legend we have to live up to…"

"At a time like this, I think this needs saying." She snapped back. "Seventy five years ago when our grandfather led his squadron against Andross's Empire AND WON, I doubt that the first thought that ran through his mind was "I've got a reputation to uphold." Bull. He was trying to get the job done and keep the Lylat System safe."

She angrily drummed her fingers together. "I hate being a McCloud."

"WHAT?!" Her brother stammered, suddenly slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. An angry four door whizzed by, horn blaring and then fading away. Terrany tried her best to remain angry, despite the fact Carl's sudden action nearly threw her out of her seat despite the seatbelt.

As soon as he came to a complete stop, he whipped about in his seat, staring at her incredulously. "Just what…I…"

Terrany took advantage of his flustered state and stared into his eyes.

"You said it yourself. Our family heritage makes people look at us differently. They expect more, they expect the legend to be reborn in us. Well, SCREW THAT. I have my own life, and I don't plan on living it carrying on in my grandfather's shadow. He did some good things; fine. Leave that to him. The entire Lylat System is so damned keen on trying to make us wear his wings, Carl. Don't tell me you haven't felt that pressure, so intense you want to scream and just throw it all off."

"Teri…" Carl said quietly, using his pet name for her. "They expect great things from us, yes. But they expect great things from everyone."

"Sure." Terrany murmured, turning about and shaking her head. "Sure they do."

Carl sighed and continued along, finally reaching the turnoff that would take them from the highway and to the road back home.

Terrany didn't bother to finish her thought.

_And then when you go and blow away their expectations…they throw you in jail and call you a dangerous hotdogger unfit to fly._

* * *

Home for the McCloud clan was not Corneria; this was important to know. The brownish tint to the sky would indicate that if one used even a shred of attention. Many years ago, this planet lay in grave danger under the threat of Andross's reaching arms. Back then, it had been defended in an intense air battle over the main military base, a pyramid shaped structure that still stood to this day. The air defense forces, led by ace pilot Bill Grey, had been on the losing end of a continuous strike by Invader IIs and a fast approaching mothership named Saucerer that kept unleashing wave after wave. The Husky and Bulldog Units, the pride of pilots everywhere, fought bravely, but were evenly matched at best against the Invader IIs.

And then, as the reports claimed, the Starfox team streaked down out of nowhere, with Fox McCloud leading the charge. In a climactic skirmish that lasted no longer than half an hour, the combined forces of the more basic Cornerian class fighters and the highly advanced Arwing superfighters of the Starfox team lay waste to Andross's invasion force, even destroying the Saucerer mothership before it could unleash its brilliant atomizing blast and destroy the heart of the planet's defense forces.

Now, 75 years later, Katina was a peaceful planet, no longer just a colony and outpost, but a full sister planet to the great and historic Corneria.

And home to the final vestiges of the McCloud line.

Skip brought the vehicle to a halt in the driveway of their house, a one floor and basement 'ranch' style house with a two car garage and 7000 cubic meters of open space with the furniture removed. With practiced ease he shuffled the repulsorcraft into park and then removed his key from the ignition, letting out a sigh that matched his vehicle's. "I imagine mom's cookies have gotten cold."

"She made cookies??" Teri asked, lifting an eyebrow. Skip nodded calmly. "We figured you'd need some cheering up." He turned and gave her his best 'angry brother' glare. "Neither of us imagined I'd be pulling you out of the pokey for a barfight."

"You would have done the same thing I did in there." Terrany replied, climbing out of the parked repulsorcar and walking towards the house with her hands stuffed into her pockets.

Skip watched her trod on, seemingly not caring how much trouble she had caused. A part of him grew very angry at that…but he suppressed that and sighed. Teri had always been like that. Rash, impulsive, instinctive. At times, it had served her well, but other times…

Well, there was a reason that despite her incredible abilities as a pilot, it was Carl that was the Commander of his flight unit.

And the same reason she had been expelled from the Cornerian Air Force Academy.

The door creaked open unwillingly…it figured that their mother hadn't fixed it yet in the years they had lived here. A fully capable woman, but remarkably absent-minded about repairs and housework that extended beyond cooking meals and laundry and vacuuming.

"Mom?" Terrany called out hesitantly, looking about through the dimmed living room. A light coming from the stairs leading down to the family room down in the finished basement caught her eye. "You downstairs again??"

"Yes, dear. Help yourself to the cookies in the kitchen." The familiar, but weary voice of their mother called up.

Terrany scratched at the back of her head, just behind her right ear before sighing and walking towards the cookies. She grabbed one and eagerly took a bite; chocolate chip with macademia nuts. Her favorite, just the way mom knew how to make them. She grabbed two more for the road as she stuffed the rest of the first one in her mouth and headed downstairs to where the lights were turned on.

Julia Ray McCloud, maiden name Julia Ray Dyson, was in her forties still a knockout. The years had been gentle on her, and her silvery white hair, an unusual color for foxes, looked timid but no less filled out and lively. She wore a loose fitting white blouse and a full bodied red skirt, sitting there in the rocking chair with her legs crossed and a cup of tea in her hands, still warm. As Terrany's footsteps grew louder, she let her focused gray eyes drift over towards the stairs before redirecting them back again. Foxes were known for good hearing, and Julia's was no exception.

"Evening, momma." Terrany said hesitantly.

"Good evening yourself." Mrs. McCloud said back calmly, not looking at Terrany. She took another sip of tea before she spoke again. "We were worried about you…thought for sure you would have made it home in time for dinner. Your portion of the Ghambla soup is in the fridge, in case you were wondering."

"I'm sorry." Terrany replied, feeling at that moment against her mother's calm voice like a small child. It annoyed her to no end…her mother was always so calm about these things. Why couldn't she just get angry and explode like moms were supposed to?? Terrany never got a chance to vent around her mother. She was just too calm to let retorts or outbursts fly.

Mrs. McCloud sighed. "Terrany Anne McCloud, I thought for sure that you were finally going to succeed. And then you blew it."

"It wasn't my fault." Terrany said in her defense, lifting an eyebrow. "You gotta believe me, momma!"

"It doesn't matter what I think." Julia McCloud said, taking another sip of tea. "You were expelled because of that incident, and there's nothing that can be done to change that. Your brother, he was so proud of you when you got into the academy. I was proud of you. And I have a feeling your father was proud of you then as well, wherever his soul is." She finally turned and faced Terrany. "And on top of being expelled, you get arrested for injuring fifteen men in a barfight."

"Momma, they were insulting our family." Terrany growled defensively. "I had a right to shut them up."

"What did they say?" Mrs. McCloud asked in a weary voice. "That a McCloud couldn't fly their way out of a paper bag? That McClouds were nothing but walking curses?? That a McCloud couldn't tag a Meteo asteroid even if they had quad hyper laser cannons??"

Terrany remained silent. It had been the second one that the ringleader of the drunken bar consortium had uttered not but hours ago.

Mrs. McCloud sighed. "Terrany, your temper gets you into more trouble than it gets you out of. One day, I swear it will be the death of you. You can't go attacking every sneering idiot that roams the sewers, there's too many of them and only one of you."

Deflated, Terrany reached for a reply, any reply at all. Finally, she shook her head. "They still shouldn't say things like that, though. We're not…we're not…"

"I know that." Terrany's mother replied, smiling sadly. "After all, I married one, didn't I?"

She turned and motioned towards the wall of cabinets and shelves in the basement room. "I changed the decorations a bit while you two were gone…I suppose I just got bored."

Terrany numbly nodded her head, then turned to stare at her mother's handiwork.

She found herself staring at a wall full of medals and commendations, nearly all of them from the Cornerian Air Force. The decorations, the honors, the awards, all of them pronounced loud and deeply her family name. She stared down at one award, which was given posthumously….the one she could never forget.

_For service above and beyond the call of duty, and for his noble sacrifice which saved countless hundreds from the threat of the space pirates, the defense forces of Venom award Maximillian James McCloud the order of Lylus. We shall never forget._

Teri felt her eyes beginning to blur, and quickly turned away from it. She focused instead on the photos that were there, all aged and worn to some degree or another. True, they could have just been holocube images, but her mother had a fascination with a more solid picture between her fingers.

James McCloud, the first; standing there and looking supremely confident beside his Cornerian R67 space fighter, his trademark sunglasses pushed up and nestled into his head of hair, one hand lazily stuffed away in his bomber's jacket, and the other flipping a confident thumbs-up as he leaned on his aircraft's fuselage. Not thin, but not stocky, he gave off a calm air of leadership that seeped from the worn photograph. All of his awards and medals surrounded his lasting image.

Then there was Fox McCloud, the legend himself, the savior of the Lylat System time and time again. His photograph was dated shortly after his triumph over Venom and the insane Doctor Andross. Where James McCloud had kept his sunglasses, Fox's hair grew wild, and standing there with his laser pistol hanging loosely at his side, the medium dark brown haired fox seemed to emanate a rebellious cockiness. His father's majestic visage was lessened in him, determination seemingly giving way to mirth and humor in that twinged half smile. He also looked a fair deal more scrappy than her great grandfather did, leaner, almost like a spring ready to snap up.

The last image there was her own father, Max McCloud. He seemed calmer than the other two, a soul more at peace with his existence, and his brown fur had skipped to an even lighter tint, almost tan in comparison to his father and grandfather. The noble and rustic features had by then been completely absent, replaced instead by a softer and curvier visage. He didn't seem to be the sort to fly dangerous missions against impossible odds, even his eyes didn't shine like James' had. But a person's looks had little to do with their personality, Teri reminded herself. Her father had been calm, almost always mirthful. But never once had he strayed from a mission objective because of that personality. Those that had known him, his wingmen of the Cornerian Space Defense division, had always recorded that when others panicked, when others lost it, Max never wavered once. As if there was a part of himself that ignited when he stepped inside the cockpit of the Arspace Dynamics Model K Arwing, Max McCloud had carried the fury of his forerunners in him. It only existed then, never showing up at any other time other than when it was needed. It was that fury that her father had tapped into in his final battle…

And he had died. Max had been more than a stunning pilot, he had also been a father…the only one Terrany and her brother had ever needed. There had been a gaping hole in their lives since their father had passed away ten years before.

Maybe that's why they had both decided to join the Cornerian Academy as well…just to pick up where their father had left off.

Terrany felt her mother's arm reach around her shoulder, pulling her close.

"This wall's taken too many McClouds already." She said quietly, holding her daughter near. "And even if I worry about what you're going to do now…I'm thankful that at least one McCloud will never have to suffer their fate."

Despite herself, Terrany hugged her mother back, old tears resurfacing.

"I'm sorry, momma…"

Julia McCloud hugged her daughter a little harder, getting Teri's flight jacket wet.

"I love you so much."

* * *

An hour later, Mrs. McCloud finally went to bed, and Teri went to the kitchen, finally listening to the rumbling in her stomach. That leftover Ghambla soup was calling for her.

Of course, in this house it was impossible to find any alone time. Her brother, calmly sitting at the kitchen table and playing a game of solitaire, was reminder of that. He looked up and smiled a bit, setting down another ace. "Finally got hungry, did you?"

"Oh, quiet." Terrany mumbled, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the leftover soup. "Why are you still up?"

"Our family's habit of nocturnalism doesn't just go with the women, Teri." Carl reminded her calmly, playing another card and grimacing at the result. "Damn, where's that red eight…"

She dumped the soup into a saucepan and set it on the stove, setting the burner on medium heat. "Reason enough."

There was a few moments of silence before Carl mustered another comment. "So how does it feel to be home?"

"It feels…a little weird, to be honest." She admitted, looking over her shoulder at him. "The place seems empty."

Carl looked around thoughtfully. "Yeah, neither one of us has been around here lately…and my three day's leave ends tomorrow morning. So it's only going to get lonelier. Ever since…"

His voice trailed off, and Teri's darkening eyes responded. "You can say it, bro." She replied quietly. "Ever since dad died."

"Do you suppose that's why we signed up, Ter?" Carl asked, putting his cards aside and looking at her.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek before stirring her soup. "What, we joined the Academy to get revenge for our father's death at the hands of those space pirates? It could explain why you did it." She suggested. "You…you joined up only a few months after high school. We'd lost dad a few weeks before. At the time, you nearly broke mom's heart, as I recall. Eventually, she stopped arguing about it." Teri broke out in a half smile. "Then again, maybe we McClouds really are all destined to be fliers." Her grin faded. "No, scrap that. REALLY scrap that."

Carl sneezed. "Yes, I joined up because I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry, I wanted to hurt something."

"One of the few moments you actually showed a temper." Teri chuckled. "I felt a little better after that…I was sort of under the auspice I had inherited all of our family's berserker qualities."

"Don't remind me." Carl groaned, rubbing his head. "I've tried to get past that."

"Hey, mom always said you were too much like dad for your own good." Teri prodded him.

"And you were too much like grandpa." Carl chuckled back.

"So hotheadedness skipped a generation." Teri shrugged. "So what are you up to these days, 'Skip'?"

Carl gave her a leery side glance. "Don't call me that. I hate being called that."

"Doesn't matter. Thanks to your Academy days, it's stuck." She said, teasing him in a semi-defensive voice. She stirred her soup again. "But…your leave's up tomorrow, huh?"

"Aye."

"Just what do they have you doing these days?"

"I've been pulled away from the regular forces…they've got me and my team on a special project now." Carl said, choosing his words carefully.

"Hush-hush?"

"Oh, they'd like to keep it that way." Carl said, a twinkle in his eye. "They've been doing a good job so far."

"So this new project…is it big?"

"Big enough." He responded easily. "It won't completely revolutionize certain ways of doing things immediately…but early data is coming back with mixed positives."

"Mixed positives?"

"Not everybody can handle this…advance, it seems." He looked over at the soup forlornly, and shook his head. "I'm kind of dreading it, to be honest sis. I didn't join up to play test pilot, but that's what they have me doing."

Terrany scoffed. "Oh, please. You usually flew circles around me in the simulators back in your high school days."

"You're three years younger than me, what do you expect??" Carl shot back, chuckling. "Lord knows I wouldn't like to go up against you now."

Terrany's eyes dimmed a bit. "Yeah…well, I don't think you ever have to worry about that now."

"So it's one of those challenges left to the imagination, then." Carl exhaled. He looked at his sister. "Say, you got enough soup there for two?"

Terrany stirred the soup one last time, finally satisfied with the temperature. "Mom always did make huge portions. Sure, grab a pair of bowls and you're in."

Five minutes later, the two siblings wolfed down the last of the reheated Ghambla and pushed their bowls to the center of the table with satisfied sighs.

"I needed that." Carl exhaled. Terrany shook her head.

"Whatever your secret for gulping down that many calories and not showing it is, I'd like you to teach me."

"One of the benefits of being a guy." Carl laughed, suffering the light punch to his shoulder she offered in response. "Honestly, though…I'm sorry that things have turned out the way they did."

"What, that they kicked me out of the Academy and you're still everyone's favorite golden boy?"

"Don't say that." Carl muttered bitterly. "I hate that stigma almost as much as being called Skip."

"Noted. But that doesn't change the fact they consider you the heir to our family name."

"Frack that." Carl mumbled. "I'm good at what I do, sure. But…Terrany, you're the one who dances in the sky. You're the one who signed up because it was the only thing you were right for. All those times I beat you in the sims, you only got better and better. I won by sheer dogged pacing, but you operated on an innate wavelength I never understood. Hell, even your attitude reflects that you're the carefree spirit. I'm too mired down in details to feel the joy of skipping across the stratosphere. And there's been days I think that you and I have somehow gotten our lives mixed up. It should be you up there, not me."

Terrany quietly pushed her spoon around the inside of her empty bowl. "To be honest, brother, I don't know. And no matter what, that isn't how things have ended up." She looked at him for another long moment, smiling sadly. "I'm grounded and you're still flying. And I think life's trying to tell us something with that."

"At least you're calmer right now." Carl noted.

"Time took away my cynicism and rage, I thought you would have known that by now." She reminded him gently. She gave him one last hug, and then wandered up for bed. Carl sat at the table some more, shaking his head before getting up and putting the dirty dishes in the sink.

_Time may take it away…but it left something else, Ter. Sadness. And that's what kills me…and kills mom as well._

* * *

Arspace Dynamics had come a long way since its first days, the President of the Lylatian supercorporation mused to himself. He hobbled away from the closing doors of his private elevator, nodding briefly to the young secretary who greeted him as cheerfully as she did every morning. Leaning on a walking stick for support, he managed to get inside his private office before his legs bowed out completely from under him.

Safe within the confines of the room that had been his second home for many years, the amphibian let out a relieved croak as he settled his body into the massive leather chair by his desk. He leaned his walking stick against the desk, grateful to be rid of the crutch at last. Predictably enough, he had barely yawned before the communicator switch that connected him to his secretary went off.

"Mr. Toad, I have some new documents for you to review."

Slippy Toad, now a wizened old wart, rolled his eyes. "My dear, the day you don't have documents for me to review is the day I can actually go on vacation."

Briskly, the comm snapped off, and his door opened a few seconds later. The secretary, a young wolf-dog interbreed flipped back her light gray hair and peered over her rimmed glasses at him, a stack of manilla envelopes held against her chest as she strolled in calmly.

"So how's the little cub doing these days, Mrs. Cloudrunner?" The President asked calmly, pushing a button on the side of his desk and activating the furniture's coffee dispenser.

Evelyn Cloudrunner smiled a bit as she put the stack of documents on his desk and stepped back. "Tony's doing just fine. He got into a bit of a scrape yesterday between his bicycle and the curb, but aside from a few minor cuts and some hurt feelings, he's doing all right."

"Aah, youth." Slippy chuckled. "Could you be a dear and get me some coffee?"

Evelyn smiled at the elderly gentleman and nodded. "Sure thing. Oh…" Almost as a secondary thought, she reached into the stack of documents on his desk and pulled out a distinctly different print media. "I got you today's newspaper as well."

"Evelyn, I don't know what I'd do without you." Slippy complimented her again, reached his webbed hand for the newspaper as Evelyn turned and walked over to the windowside counter of his office and started the coffee machine.

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, unfolding the paper and reached into his desk drawer for his reading glasses. For a brief moment, as his hand touched the spectacles, he felt a slight twinge of memory flash back to him…

Peppy Hare. It had been months since he'd last thought of the old codger, long since dead and buried. Peppy may have been old and grizzled, but he also had a sagely air around him. More and more, Slippy thought, he was becoming just like the old mentor of the Starfox team. Of course, Starfox had been disbanded years ago, back when Peppy had died and Slippy, Fox, and Falco had gone their separate ways. Nobody had ever really given much thought to restoring it since then, and for that, Slippy was glad.

It wouldn't have felt right without a McCloud leading.

Spectacles nestled gently on his nose, he scanned through the Cornerian section of the newspaper rather quickly. Boring, really. Stocks going up and down, some public interest stories, a fire in Terriklen. Nothing too important. Abetting the comics and crosswords for a moment, Slippy decided to read the Lylat general news.

It was then that his breath caught in his throat.

Something _had _happened on Katina.

"Oh, Lord." He muttered quietly. "Well, that isn't good."

Evelyn Cloudrunner walked back over to his desk and set a mug of coffee down on the coaster by his left hand. "What isn't good?"

Slippy blinked his amphibious and somewhat blurred eyes a bit, focusing through his glasses in order to confirm his first glance.

_**Female McCloud Destroys Katina Defense Force Air Show**_

"It seems as though things aren't as peachy as they used to be, my dear." Slippy finally said after an elongated pause. Miss Cloudrunner peered over his shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw the article.

"Oh…yes, that." She muttered, stepping away from him and heading back towards the door. "A darned shame, if you ask me. But you know what they say about those McClouds…"

At this, Slippy calmly set the paper down flat and folded his hands, then cleared his throat with a loud croak that distended his cheeks. "What DO they say about those 'McClouds', miss Cloudrunner?"

His secretary paused, then turned with a slight blush of color rising to her face as she caught her faux pas. "Erhh…nothing, much, sir. I apologize."

Slippy didn't offer a response, letting the silence work on her already flustered nerves.

"Didn't you fly with Fox McCloud all those years ago?"

Slippy nodded in reply. "He was the best damn pilot that the Cornerian Air Force Academy ever put out. I was lucky enough to be his best friend, and when things heated up and the Starfox team was reformed, I went with him. I don't believe for a moment that the McClouds are cursed."

At that, his secretary truly did blush, the fur around her face darkening significantly. Slippy merely smiled a quiet knowing smile, knowing the forcefulness of his commentary as well as his age were both imposing on so many people these days.

"Yes, Miss Cloudrunner. I'm well aware of the stories some people cling to these days…how the McClouds are a cursed line. Ever since Fox's father, they've all died of unnatural causes, and always surrounding conflict and war. That does not make them cursed, and don't make that assumption ever again. Look at it merely as an example of how the McCloud line is filled with good-hearted people. They've always accomplished miracles, even at the expense of their own lives. And I don't really appreciate young upstarts like you or anybody else, for that matter, belittling their sacrifices."

"Understood, sir." Miss Cloudrunner said softly, her face now burning with embarrassment and shame. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, I believe I'm all right for now." Slippy said after a pause, his face morphing back into a complacent smile. "I'll call if I need anything."

His secretary offered another brief nod, then stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Slippy Toad let out a large sigh and eased back into his seat. He was slowly creeping up on being over 90 years old now, and by some miracle, only his body had begun to renege on him. His mind had been left unaffected by the years, unlike so many others who became senile over time. Long ago, his doctors had told him that he should retire from Arspace Dynamics, leave the Cornerian engineering conglomerate to his heirs and settle into a nice quiet lifestyle.

Of course, he hadn't agreed with his doctors then, and he certainly didn't now. Sure, he could have left Arspace in the hands of his grandson…The true passion of engineering had somehow skipped a generation in his family, as his son was a member of the Lylatian Senate, but young Wyatt Toad had proven to be just as mechanically gifted as his grandfather, and just as obsessed with machines.

But in all his years of life, Slippy had learned to love the company that his father, Beltino Toad, had founded. And what was the old saying, he mused…You could take the animal out of engineering, but you couldn't take the engineer out of the animal? No matter. It had eventually reached a point about fifteen years ago when he could no longer do engineering projects, culminating in him nearly fracturing his pelvis when he tried to help his grandson Wyatt build the most aerodynamically sound soap box derby racer possible. So he'd listened to his doctors in part; he'd retired from engineering and put away his wrenches and screws. But he never gave up the lifestyle, and he didn't give up the legacy. After his retirement as head of engineering, he exerted his familial authority and became the President, with very little difficulty. Consumer faith in Arspace had soared, as had the company's stock, upon the announcement that the famous and brilliant Slippy Toad, former wingman of the heroic Fox McCloud was taking over the family business completely. There were some days Slippy missed the smell of oil and hydraulics, and the good honest sweat of laboring hands…but anytime he did, all he had to do was visit the design labs. About five years ago, Wyatt had graduated early from high school and started College at the same time as he began working for Arspace in the engineering department, at his grandfather's urging and his father's vehement warnings. He'd recently completed his Master's degree in aerospace engineering and was working on his doctorate, on top of becoming the head of the engineering department just last year.

It had been a while since Slip had thought of his former wingmen…the last time he'd left his own secluded corner of the world had been at the funeral of Maximillian McCloud, Fox's son and heir apparent on Katina.

The memory quickly washed his smile away. He remembered that day well…

Katina, even after the slow decades of terraforming to make it resemble Corneria, had its moments of ruggedness that made it clear it was an entirely different planet. It had been one such day like that when they had buried Max…buried Fox's only child.

Fox himself had long since died; he had gone up in a blaze of glory not too much different from the fate that Max had perished in. Falco hadn't bothered to show up, if he was still alive. Forty years before, when Fox had died, Falco had up and left. Krystal McCloud, Fox's wife and soulmate, had been there, though. It had been hard for the blue colored vixen to bury her son, Slippy had known that. He'd consoled her as best as he could…but even that hadn't been enough. Krystal had almost fallen apart when Fox had perished…losing Max was the last straw. She packed her bags, climbed aboard her personal spacecraft, and left for parts of the Lylat System unknown. ROB, of course, had gone with her.

But what he remembered most about that solemn occasion was Max's own family. Slippy had known Fox, had known Krystal and Max. But Fox's death had hurt them all, and he'd lost ties with the surviving son. It had only been years later, at Max's funeral, that he'd discovered that in that span of time, Max had grown up and had his own family.

And like his father and grandfather before him…died in combat and in pain.

He remembered them, standing by Krystal, he remembered the looks on their faces. Max's wife had been a catching vixen herself, graced with the unusual trait of having silvery white hair instead of brown. She had stood stoically, trying her best to compose herself. And then there were Max's children, and it was there that Slippy's memory became truly focused.

There had been two of them; a boy and a girl. Slippy learned later, at the reception, that their names were Carl and Terrany. But as Max's ceremonial coffin was interred to the earth, there was one thing that they shared.

The fury in their eyes, the tearful frustration. And Slippy had sensed their pain then, for he'd seen it before.

He'd seen it in Fox's eyes back when they were at the Academy. And he'd known what it meant.

_I should have been there to help him._

Slippy wasn't all that surprised to learn later, through the press, of course, that Carl McCloud had registered with the Cornerian Air Force and had begun training at the Flight Academy on Katina. What had surprised him was how easily Terrany had gotten in as well. He'd reviewed her records once, too.

She was good. Just as good of a pilot as her brother, in both simulation and real flight. But there was one particular area that Terrany had always been weaker in.

Terrany Anne McCloud was, in the words of her instructors and wingmates, a loose cannon. She had had the highest enemy kill counts of her class…and also, the lowest ranking in team flight and formation. Fox had been like that too, once. Brash, hotheaded, prone to doing things his way or no way at all. He got results, but he'd always made waves.

Terrany, it seemed, had received her grandfather's flaw and multiplied it.

Quietly, he picked up the newspaper and began to read.

_Yesterday, at 1:47 P.M. Katina Standard Time, spectators to the Katina Air Defense Force Air Show witnessed a spectacle that nobody was prepared for. During a complex synchronized flight stunt, Terrany McCloud, senior at the Katina Flight Academy and descendant of the famous Fox McCloud, caused a near mid-air collision that resulted in the crash landing of her Dynamo Class high performance atmospheric fighter into the supports of the control tower at Husky Field, causing the entire base to shut down all operations. No injuries were reported, and all inbound aircraft were safely diverted to other flight bases by the quick actions of a circling radar control Freskin class jet. The Air Show was immediately cancelled. _

_Husky Field spokesman Devon Kraumire later announced that they would not press charges, provided that the Flight Academy dealt with the guilty party in a proper manner. "The Air Show is one of our defining traditions," Kraumire said at his press conference, "And we will continue to run it. However, we cannot ignore the irresponsibility of the Academy for allowing such an inexperienced, albeit famous, pilot, to participate in this event. It is our hope that in the future, the Academy will use better judgement in selecting their performers for this event."_

_Representatives from the Katina Air Academy responded quickly. "We are investigating the matter thoroughly," was the statement from Lt. J.G. Miles Wentworth. "Husky Field has our assurances that this irresponsible sort of flying will not happen again. As for Pilot Terrany McCloud, she has been dismissed from service as of today, and will not be allowed to graduate with her classmates. The Academy offers its humblest apologies to any Air Show goers, and to the Husky Field authorities. It is our hope that we can maintain our good relations in the future."_

_Terrany McCloud was unavailable for comment._

The article went on for a few more paragraphs…and then there was the photograph of Terrany's plane, burying itself into the supporting pylons of the control tower before exploding almost instantly and collapsing the structure. Its sole occupant had seen the plane coming and jumped out, Slippy read, saving his life.

There was a tiny and somewhat blurred shot of Terrany as well, her expression one of disbelief and doubt as she stared at the burning wreckage of her aircraft buried in the skeletal framework of the control tower. She hardly looked like the bitter and vengeful spirit that had stood by her father's grave only a few short years before, and more like a distraught cub.

Frankly, Slippy thought as he put the paper down, they had set her up for the roast. More than likely, from what little he knew of her personality, she had pulled something rash and caused it.

But leave it to the media to jump on the story and her misfortunes like wolves to the lamb.

Disgusted, he pushed the paper off of his desk and into the recycling bin he kept beside his desk. With a light thump, it fell limply into the receptacle, and Slippy turned away from it.

Slippy felt incredibly old and tired just then. He reclined back in his chair, feeling the aches of all his years suddenly weighing down on his aged frame once again. Quietly, he rocked back and forth and looked up at the ceiling of his office, remembering a time so long ago when he and the rest of the Starfox team gallivanted about.

He would be lying to himself if he hadn't silently admitted that he longed for those days again.

* * *

_Katina; the McCloud household_

Julia McCloud came down the stairs with her blue satin robe tied about her loosely. The vixen yawned, her snout's rows of teeth glimmering in the dim light for a moment before she closed her jaw and recognized the child sitting at the kitchen table.

Terrany looked up and raised her coffee cup politely. "Morning, mom."

"Morning yourself." Mrs. McCloud answered, walking over to the coffeepot and pouring herself a cup. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough." Terrany said tonelessly. "Skip already took off, though. He told me to say his goodbyes for him."

Mrs. McCloud took a sip of her daughter's brewing before nodding her pale white snout in approval. "Well, I hope he had some of your coffee before he took off."

"Yeah, coffee." Terrany said, rolling her eyes. "The one thing I can make without burning it."

Her mother sat down and glanced about with a frown. "Where's the morning paper?"

Terrany stared down into her coffee cup. "I already picked it up. Tossed it, too. There was nothing worth reading." There was a glimmer of hostility in her tone at that, and the mother looked over to the wastebasket, noticing the partially crumpled paper poking up from it.

Her sharp eyes picked out the **Female McCloud Destroys…** portion of the main headline, and she closed her eyes. "I see." Terrany's mother finally commented. "Well, there's always slow news days."

"I wish Carl could have stayed longer." Terrany said quietly, taking another sip of her drink. "I'd forgotten how much fun it is to talk to him."

"Well, your brother's a busy man these days. Doing what, God only knows, but the Air Force keeps him cooped up most of the time." Mrs. McCloud observed, spinning her cup on the table. "I consider myself lucky when I see him for more than a day."

Terrany chuckled. "Well, we'll never be able to say he isn't dedicated to his work."

"Speaking of work…" Mrs. McCloud began hesitantly, "…Have you thought about what you're going to do now?"

"Now?" Teri asked, raising her eyes to the ceiling with reluctance. "Now that my career in the Cornerian Air Force is over? Now that I've been kicked out of the academy for reckless flying during an air show? Now that the only thing which has been my focus for…Well, since dad died…is gone?" Her mother nodded in the affirmative and Terrany finally shrugged. "I really don't know."

"Well, old Mr. Hodges is going to be planting his crops soon…And he'll be needing some help with the aerial fertilization."

Terrany frowned. "Crop dropping? Mom, I haven't done that in…"

"I know." Mrs. McCloud replied softly. "But you can't escape flying, you know. It's in your blood. You could try a dozen other careers, and you'd always go back to flying. Even if you can't pilot an Arwing space fighter like your father and brother, you'll always want to fly. And you used to love flying for Mr. Hodges."

"It's not just that." Teri protested, looking more crestfallen than ever. "They…they've marked my permanent record. I can't fly military craft for the rest of my life, and I don't think anybody'd let me behind the stick of any other aircraft, even if I wanted to.

Mrs. McCloud's face became a mask of disappointment. "Oh…well, that changes things." She thought for a moment, then offered a feeble suggestion. "Well…You could at least go see him. Even if you can't fly, there has to be something you can do for him."

Terrany examined the lukewarm cup of coffee in her hands, and blinked once before drinking the rest.

"Yeah." She said, with no feeling at all. "Something."

* * *

_Somewhere Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

His radio chirped in, its crackle as familiar and traditional as it had been two hundred years ago. _"Commander, this is Alpha Flight. Checking signal strength, over."_

Carl McCloud smiled. "Reading you four by four."

_"Roger that. Can you confirm checklist completion?"_

His eyes glanced from the oblique tinted canopy of his experimental craft to the monitor that displayed systems diagnostics and other messages. It was finishing its preflight checks as he sat there with the fusion reactor on idle, and by the look of it…

The last item went green. "Confirmed. All systems are go."

_"All right, Commander. You know your mission. Remember, avoid Merging. We'll be testing that system later."_

Carl tightened the harness over his flight suit one last time and gripped the control mechanisms with newfound strength. "Roger that. We'll see you outside Venom's gravity well in a couple of hours. It's time to stretch this fury's legs a bit."

The comm line went silent, and Carl was left in the darkness of empty space, with only the starlight to change the scenery.

A new voice chirped in, and he jumped before relaxing, reminding himself that it was nothing out of the ordinary. **"Going for a spin? And I wasn't invited?"**

"With you, Odai, you're always invited." Carl chastised his invisible RIO. "What's on the radar?"

**"Squat, Skip. Now put the thrusters on something other than idle, and let's haul out of here. You know how much I hate just sitting around."**

"Of course, of course." Carl McCloud exhaled, pushing the engines to a higher setting. The twin-plasma exhaust thrusters went to work, and the G-Diffuser offered only a marginal hum as they slipped farther around the void.

Silence not being one of Odai's virtues, the invisible entity soon spoke through Skip's comm line. **"So what are we doing today, Chief? Target practice?"**

"Oh, you'd like that too much." The elder McCloud laughed, watching the highlighted spatial debris through the green half-visor that covered his right eye. "No, this trip the hyper laser is staying safely offline. This is a speed test only."

The voice laughed. **"Yeah, if you want your atoms scattered halfway to Macbeth. Say what you want…but I'm keeping them online. You never know when you'll need to blast something."**

Carl rolled his eyes and pushed the thrusters faster. "No chance I can convince you to reverse that decision?"

**"About as much chance as we have of breaking the temporal barrier, but we'll give it a try. How much are we pushing the engines this time?"**

"Standard thrusters only, Odai."

**"Aww, you're breaking my heart. Standard thrust only? Are we using the FTL drive, at least?"**

"Once we finish our trial run." Skip replied to his comrade. "Watch the heat levels, Odai. The millisecond you think they're going to blow, shut them off. Don't wait for my signal."

**"I don't know if the G-Diffuser can compensate for that kind of shock, Skip…"**

The McCloud only grinned wider and pushed the throttle as far open as it could go. "That's what we're going to find out."

The spacecraft pulled three downward spinning barrel rolls while the plasma jets screamed to maximum, and shot off as a blink of blue and white, vanishing into the empty maw of space.

A few seconds later, the observation probe that had been keeping sight of the McCloud and his sterling-winged craft shook from the vibrations of the void shockwave.

The energy burst disrupted its communications for a full three seconds.


	2. Last Chances

_**STARFOX LEGENDS: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWO: LAST CHANCES

_Katina_

_Two Weeks Later_

The fields of various produce and grains stretched as far as the eye could see in the western hemisphere's farm belt; Only the occasional city and town marred what was from the view of a bird, perfect squares of green and gold leading on to the mountainous and arid horizon.

_This is my home_, Terrany thought to herself. The roar of the outdated two-stroke diesel prop provided a dull drone that masked most of her darker thoughts. Up in the open cockpit, with the wind flying past her face, she only felt a dull ebbing pain. At least here, it was bearable.

Crop dusting might have seemed a strange practice for their advanced civilization, but Gull Hodges, a stork by race, was an eccentric fellow who had never seen the point in buying a lumbering ground-based machine to do the job when his old monoplane worked just as well. It broke down frequently, used parts that had long since gone out of production, and had more miles on it than most people kept on their hovercars, but the old farmer had never been able to part with it.

When the McClouds had moved in, Terrany's father had done the crop dusting for him out of courtesy. Later on, after her brother had graduated from junior flight school, he'd continued the tradition. And when her brother, finally enraged to the point of action by their father's demise, took up the call to join the Academy, Terrany had filled his shoes.

So here she was again.

The tanks were loaded with Naproxylene, a non-toxic growth enhancer formulated especially for the summer wheat over Hodges' southern fields. She thinned the fuel ratio down and pulled back on the throttle, letting the aircraft descend down to thirty feet above the ground. The altimeter, as much of a relic as the rest of the hulk, spun the dial about until it settled uneasily on the required altitude.

The engine sputtered a bit, and Terrany reached for the long wrench which Gull always kept in the pilot seat. Gripping it tight, she brought the long iron extension up into the air and slammed it hard onto the maroon-painted fuselage directly in front of her. Underneath the metal plating, the combustion engine sputtered a bit more, and then slowly eased back to regular running.

Terrany cracked a smile and slipped the long handled wrench back beside her. _When all else fails, hit the damn thing._

With the monoplane restored to temporary working order, Terrany flipped the old electrical switch that controlled the bomb bay doors and lined up the plane with the wheat fields.

"Just like the Academy." She mumbled to herself. In many ways, this was like the practice bombing runs she used to do in their _Argus_- class fighter bombers. Of course, there wasn't antiaircraft fire, missiles, or uneven terrain to contend with over a wheat field. The basic principle remained the same; begin to drop the payload before you reached the target, because your forward velocity would carry it the distance. When bombing runways, for instance, starting the bomb drop at the beginning of the strip meant that a portion of it would survive.

Or, in the case of this wheat field…

Terrany's hand remained steady on the stick, and she eyeballed the remaining distance between her and the beginning of the wheat field. Bomb runs had never been her forte, but at her speed of barely seventy miles an hour, a first-year cadet would be stupid to miss the target. This was, as the idea went, a walk in the park. Her thumb settled on the trigger set in the control stick, and when the moment came, she clicked it down. Her other hand reached for the throttle, upping her speed and setting the engine into a faster roar.

Underneath her plane, a cloud of chemical dust flopped out and drifted on the slight breeze. Her aim had been true; it came to rest exactly where it was needed, with only ten feet of spread on either side of the target.

The now empty monoplane turned back up into the air at full power, and Terrany couldn't resist putting it into a roll before leveling off at sixty-five feet. She let out a whoop, and just as soon as the joy came, it left her like oxygen in deep space.

The pale-furred vixen leaned back in the cockpit and took in a long sigh.

_It'll never be the same. _

She heard the thought a second time, and it made her heart ache.

The engine began to rumble again, and Terrany reached for the wrench. She hit the nose of the plane harder than she likely had to, even leaving a ding in it…but somehow, she didn't care.

As she turned for the airstrip and miniature hangar of Hodges' land, Terrany omitted something she never would have missed, had she been in her right mind.

A black hover-sedan was turning off of the gravel county road…onto the dirt roads of the farm.

* * *

Terrany was halfway through the maintenance of the old propeller driven duster plane by the time she realized she wasn't alone in the hangar. Whoever was there wasn't trying to be menacing, thankfully. That would have made her hair stand on end, by her sixth sense alone.

A ring-tailed raccoon in his late thirties, dressed in a light brown coat and driver's sunglasses stood in the wide doorway of the hangar. He smiled and uncrossed his arms. "Afternoon." By the look of him, and the short trim of his headfur, he was either military…or military wannabe.

She gave him a once-over, staring at his casual dress and the oafish way he seemed to shuffle onto both feet. _Military wannabe_, she decided. He was too young to be retired, and there were certain motions that he would have kept; a cadence to his step, a crispness in his swing, a sharpness in his eye. Since none of that was there, and the other facts didn't match up, wannabe he was labeled.

"It's a long way from the city, stranger." Terrany answered, rubbing her grimy hands on an oilcloth. "Are you just out for a weekend drive, or was there something you wanted?"

The raccoon's black-ringed eyes twinkled a bit, and he motioned towards her with a paw. "Could I come in?"

"Haven't you already?" Terrany mumbled, closing the hatch to the engine compartment.

He laughed quietly and shrugged his shoulders, walking in beside her. "Well, I suppose I have. I saw your plane while I was out cruising: I have to say, I'm impressed that something this old is still flying. What is it, a Cloudthrower?"

"Actually, it's an Avius Model 22 monoplane."

"Yours?"

"No, I just fly the thing…and try to keep it from falling apart into scrap the rest of the time." She tossed the now dirty oilcloth away and nodded to him. "This belongs to the farmer who owns the land around here, Gull Hodges."

The raccoon nodded, staring around the old retrofitted barn. "It's a nice place…but not the kind of place I'd ever imagine you being in."

Whatever friendliness Terrany had been building to the male faded away in a blink, and she retreated a few steps away. Training kicked in, and her body tensed in preparation for a fight. "Who are you?"

"Milo Granger." The furry interloper announced, holding out his hand. When it became clear she had no intention of shaking it, he pulled it back with a nervous cough. "Heh…Well, then. You're Terrany Anne McCloud, correct?"

"So you watch the news. Good for you."

Milo reached a hand up and scratched at his pointed ears. "Before you take my head off, I've come to make you an offer."

"Whatever you're selling, I don't want it."

"Really?"

"Really." The youngest McCloud spat out, turning for the monoplane's cockpit…and the long heavy wrench inside. "I just want to be left alone."

"If that was the case, then you wouldn't still dream of flying."

Terrany whirled about, furious. "Just who the HELL do you think you are, coming in like this?"

"Well, I could be your benefactor, if you'd let me." Milo said, remaining calm through the worst of her rage. "I watched you dust that field. You were enjoying it, and you were pulling maneuvers reminiscent of your Academy days. Miss McCloud, you belong in the air, and you know it."

Terrany leaned up against the tail of the plane and folded her arms. "And you're the sort of person who could get me back up in the air again, is that it?"

"I work for something which could." Milo's tail swished behind him. "I work for something called Project _Seraphim_. No, you haven't heard of it, and no, you won't find it. But we are connected to the Air Force, just in a more specialized capacity."

"Need to know basis. Black operations. That sort of thing." Terrany mumbled tonelessly. "Not interested."

"Not even if you get your wings back?"

"Why me?" Terrany countered, not buying the line for a minute. "There are hundreds of eager and loyal cadets who would line up to work for you. I don't understand what you want in a washout like me, but whatever it is, I don't care."

Milo tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Maybe because I believe in second chances. In your case, last chances. Maybe I think you've got something some pilots go their whole life trying to find. Or maybe I'm just some sick nut who gets his jollies off of rescuing damsels in distress. Pick whatever reason floats your boat."

Terrany continued to glower at him, and the raccoon reached inside his jacket. "If you decide to change your mind…I'll be waiting for you tonight." Milo pulled out a sealed manila envelope and tossed it on the dusty floor of the hangar between them. "Get back in the air, or dust crops the rest of your life."

His cheerfulness, real or feigned, didn't leave his eyes. "Your call, Wild Fox."

Terrany's blood turned to molasses in her veins, and the sounds of the world went dull and muddy. Milo bowed respectfully, then turned and walked out the way he came.

Through the roar in her ears, she heard a vehicle start up and whine as it hovered off away. She only paid attention to it because he was riding in it.

Milo Granger, he said his name was. Project Seraphim. And he knew her.

Knew enough about her to recall the call sign her father had given her, so many long years ago. It had been a little joke between her father, her, and her brother. Carl had been "Brown Fox", and Terrany had been "Wild Fox."

That nickname hadn't been uttered since his funeral, until today.

Eventually, feeling came back to her legs and she forced herself to walk over to the manila envelope.

Inside was a map of her region of Katina: A position was marked precisely in the middle of the Pheran Desert to the west, three hundred miles away. A note was attached to it.

_No sense wandering the wasteland when you know where you need to be. –Milo_

She sat down on the floor of the hangar, legs underneath her, and turned her head to stare at the old Avius monoplane.

"Wild Fox." She mumbled, letting her vision become clouded with the deep red paint on the aircraft.

* * *

A half mile away, Milo reclined the passenger seat of the black hover-sedan back and relaxed. "I don't get why we have to drag around in this conspicuous clunker. A sports model would be so much better."

"It was what they had at the rental center. Just be thankful we didn't have to get a gremlin." The driver, an attractive orange striped feline retorted. She kept her eyes on the road, far more serious than Milo appeared to be. "So how did she take it?"

"Like I expected her to." Milo chuckled. "She threatened me, acted defensive, and shot me down before I could even give her the proposal. Skip described her perfectly."

The tigress pursed her lips. "Did you tell her about him?"

Milo blinked his ringed eyes once, then stared up to the ceiling of the vehicle. "Nope. Didn't see the point."

"Don't you think she might like to know that her brother is…"

"And where would be the good in that?" Milo interrupted, as calm as a frozen lake. "If she's going to join up, she has to do it for herself. I'm not about to give her justification to come back later and say she came against her will."

His counterpart repressed a shiver. "For someone so cheerful, you're awfully cynical inside."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it cynical." Milo chuckled, folding his paws behind his head. "Calculating, maybe. Any word from Rourke or the General?"

"No word from Rourke; he's still on assignment as far as I know."

"And the General?"

To this, she hesitated. "The sensors are getting the same readings from deep space that we picked up when Carl…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "The techs said a couple of weeks, give or take."

For a change, Milo didn't smile.

* * *

_Arspace Dynamics_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

His phone was ringing. Ordinarily, the elder Slippy Toad would find every excuse to not pick it up, including miraculous sudden loss of hearing, midday narcolepsy, and his prostate.

This time, the son of the company's founder deemed it worth his time to pick it up. A push of a button set it on speakerphone, and Slippy leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Wyatt, my boy. How are you?"

"Just fine and dandy, gramps!" His grandson croaked. "I'm assuming you haven't burned headquarters down yet?"

"No, haven't had the opportunity to, now that you're gone." Slippy mused. "Are we on a secure line?"

"As always."

"Good. How's Project _Seraphim_ coming?"

"Ugh." Slippy could almost hear the grimace in Wyatt's expression. "Kind of a mixed bag."

Slippy folded his webbed hands over his stomach and began to rock in his seat. He'd assigned Wyatt to the Seraphim team as a systems analyst and engineer, and the boy had made substantial progress, going so far as becoming the team leader on his crew. Seraphim may have been Slippy's brainchild, but Wyatt had taken the idea and put it all together. And like any good mechanic, he'd found plenty of room for adjustment between the vision and the reality of it.

"What's going on? A problem with the G-Diffuser? Are you going to need some more parts?"

"It's not mechanical."

Slippy blinked. "The AI?"

"The AI isn't working. Not like we'd like it to." Wyatt bemoaned. "The prototype just wasn't responsive at all. We managed to create a slightly dumbed-down system called ODAI, and that one seems to be functional…but it'll never come close to the kind of performance that we expected out of KIT."

"Nonsense." Slippy chuffed. "You have Fox's grandson in the program, don't you? He'll crack that nut eventually."

Silence followed, and at last the old wart realized that something was indeed horribly wrong. And it wasn't just the AI either.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"We…We lost Skip."

It wouldn't have hurt Slippy any more if Wyatt had punched him in the gut. "…What? How?"

"He was putting the X-1 through its speed trials. He got attacked. We don't know who. That was two weeks ago, and not even our searches turned up anything. KIT might have worked for him, if we'd ever gotten around to that portion of the trials…But he's gone now."

Slippy closed both sets of eyelids, and let the darkness overtake him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I could tell you that I've been so busy I didn't have the chance to, but that's not the truth. I just wasn't sure how you'd take it…knowing what happened to Skip's granddad and dad."

"How thoughtful." Slippy exhaled. "I wish that his mother could get the same courtesy."

"Even if the project is having to move forward without him, Command isn't giving up. I think General Grey would hold out until Creation's End if it meant he could still hope."

Slippy put his feet up on his desk, a position he took when he let his mind run at engineer speed. "All right. Ballpark it for me then, Wyatt. Not using KIT, and being stuck with these ODAIs, how much of a hit in combat performance are we talking?"

"…Close to thirty, thirty five percent. I don't like the numbers, and neither do the rest of the program heads. The simple fact is that it takes a special kind of pilot to run this thing. It takes an even more unique individual to pull off the Merge. Finding both is hard. But I hear that we might be getting someone else to take Skip's spot."

"He graduated at the top of his class. There isn't a soul who can outfly him."

"Actually, grandpa, that's not entirely true…" Wyatt weedled. "She just never graduated."

Slippy, his mind fresh from the news of two weeks before, slumped in his chair a bit more. "Terrany."

* * *

_The McCloud Residence_

_Katina_

Her mother wasn't home, and she was grateful for that. What she was thinking of, her mother had no chance of helping her understand. It remained something between her, and the wall of her bygone forefathers, to face.

James McCloud. Fox McCloud. Max McCloud.

"Why did you do it?" She murmured, tumbling the mostly empty glass of Zonessan rum in her hand. "What made you join? What made you want to fly?"

Her father, she knew. In a time when Starfox was waning, and everybody had settled into more sedentary callings, the warrior spirit lived on. Maximillian McCloud had taken up the code because it suited him, and it meant he could serve and assist.

But as for her grandfather and great-grandfather…

"Could you just not get away from it?" She went on, turning her eyes towards the image of Fox McCloud, standing proudly in front of his Arwing.

Terrany had a suspicion that, like her and her brother, her grandfather had joined the Cornerian Defense Academy out of grief. Out of a need for vengeance. Even though he eventually quit the force to strike out with the second (Though most saw it as the first, forgetting his father had founded the idea) Starfox team, there was some comfort in believing they shared a beginning.

But then, her father and her great-grandfather had joined for nobler causes. Did that make the actions of Fox McCloud, and herself and her brother, any less valid?

James, Fox, and Max McCloud. They had all died, all three of them, as heroes. But why…what made them willing to join in the first place?

Why did the McClouds fly in the first place?

"This is crazy." Terrany mumbled. She was talking to trinkets, relics. They could not tell her what she wanted to know. The only answer they could give, even with the alcohol in her system, was silence. Stubbornly, that did not stop her from asking.

"There has to be something." She rationalized. "There is a reason why McClouds fly." Beyond military necessity or obligations, beyond pride, beyond hurt feelings, there had to be something.

She took in a deep breath. "I lost everything. I was expelled from the Academy. The only thing I can still fly is an airplane nearly 100 years old, and that's only because the farmer who owns it feels sorry for me. And I'm miserable."

She set her glass aside. "But…this guy showed up out of the blue today. Said he's working on a top secret project, and that if I went with him, he could get me back in the air. I don't know if I trust him, though."

Terrany stared at the image of her father for a long while. "What do I do? Should I tell him to shove off, or take him up on it?"

The holographic projection said nothing.

Terrany closed her eyes. "Maybe the McClouds are cursed. Every last one of us that got in the cockpit died. Maybe what happened to me was for the best. At least this way, I'll be safe from the curse…"

She turned away. "…Even though I won't be happy."

It was only then that Terrany Anne McCloud felt something other than loneliness in the empty house. Whether it was inspiration, or something more mystical, or just a shift in the house air conditioning, she shuddered and felt a pull behind her.

She whirled back on the wall of her forebears and looked to each and every picture. Every McCloud that had come before her, every last one was smiling.

_They…Were happy._

At last, Terrany understood it, what drove her and every vulpine before her.

Even though it was dangerous, even though they all died, they lived doing what they loved. Flying. They had been happy. Her brother, wherever he was, was surely happy.

"And this is my chance…" Terrany uttered, looking back to her grandfather. "My chance to be happy."

Knowing that, the risks, her family legacy, her past, all faded. She was a McCloud, and McClouds belonged in the skies.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to produce some words of thanks. Finally, she just stopped trying and smiled. There was nothing she could say to them. They were just pictures, after all.

A half hour later, her travel bag packed with two changes of clothing, some basic toiletries, and her old flight jacket on her back, Terrany went to her hovercycle and powered it up.

She'd left a note for her mother to find, which said roughly that she was going away for a while for a new opportunity. Obscure, but accurate.

The engines heated up and she shot off towards the west.

It was time to be happy again.

* * *

_The Pheran Desert, Western Hemisphere_

_Katina_

_Nightfall_

In the fading light of day, a single cloud of dust traveled across the salt flats. It rallied towards the center of what had once been a shallow sea, millions of years before.

At the heart of it, an ursine took a long draw from his canteen of water, looked towards the oncoming dustcloud, and then looked back to the raccoon lounging about the landed transport cruiser.

"Friend of yours?" The black bear couldn't resist prodding. Sitting underneath a tent set up earlier in the day, Milo set his cookbook down and looked towards the horizon with a calm expression.

The ring-tailed raccoon finally smiled and opened his book back up, turning to the sauce recipes. "Heh…I guess she went for it after all. Ulie, get Dana on the comm system and let her know our prospective recruit's here."

"Shouldn't you do it? You're her wingman. I just fix the damn things." When Milo said nothing, the bear sighed and scratched his pointed snout. "All right, fine. I'll do it."

She was close enough now that Milo began to hear the roar of her hovercycle's engine. He gave himself a few more seconds to finish scanning the recipe on reduced fat hollandaise sauce, then tossed the book aside and walked out into the open.

It was unmistakably her underneath the opaque helmet; he recognized the tan khaki flight jacket as the Academy standard on Katina. "Heh. Even though they kicked you out, you still wear their colors?" He shrugged; it was functional, at least. She'd probably reached for the thing she was most comfortable with.

The hovercycle turned to a stop in front of him, and Terrany pulled off her helmet. Fiery emerald eyes stared at Milo, daring him to make some snarky remark.

Instead, he simply nodded, and found a compliment. "I'm glad you came."

Terrany leapt from her bike, and stood in front of him. She was as tall as he was, Milo realized; average height for a male, but a little tall for a girl.

"You said I could fly again. The way I figured it…Nobody else had an offer like that."

Milo nodded. "In any case, we're here now." He turned himself partially towards the transport craft and motioned with his head. "That's our ride to home. I'll be getting on it in an hour. Whether or not you get on it…Well, that depends on how you do."

Terrany's white fur seemed to bristle a pale blue in the dwindling daylight. "Do? You had some sort of test planned?"

Milo flashed another of his trademark smiles. "Naturally." He reached into his pocket and fished out a communicator. "Dana, are we ready?"

The line was clear as a bell, with no crackles heard. "I just finished the final checkups. She's using yours, though. Nobody touches my baby but me."

Milo let out a sigh. "Oh well. If that's how it has to be. Ulie, you in there?"

The communicator chirped again. "As usual, boss."

"Open up the launch doors. We're taking them out for a spin." He slipped the communicator away and set his hands in his pockets.

Terrany was skeptical. "Launch doors? That transport is just another _Rondo_ class. It isn't big enough for a launch bay."

Milo laughed, turning about to look at the carrier fully. "Think so, eh? Pay attention, then. This is my favorite part."

The back of the transport cruiser had a single large port, with two doors that angled outwards to meet a foot and a half away from the rest of the aircraft's frame. Its hydraulics began to whir, and the doors moved apart until both were perpendicular with each other and the ground.

Terrany raised an eyebrow. The Rondo class transport's doors didn't work like that. The bottom one should have descended to become a ramp, and the top one should have been pointing up towards the sky. Her incredulity became justified when the doors were drawn back into the aircraft, and a second assembly pushed itself out of the now completely open hole.

A pair of aircraft were held belly to belly in the extending gantry. In the fading sunlight, Terrany could still make them out perfectly.

Each stood close to fifty feet long, and twenty feet high. Its wings were angled back away from the hull, and folded in to inactive mode. The wings seemed thicker than she could recall seeing on the Model K that was typically flown, but they kept the streamlined design nonetheless. It had a blue tinted canopy, and most noticeably, a pair of polyhedral pods that connected the wings of the aircraft to the body. G-Diffuser pods.

What sold it home, though, was the paint job. Cornerian white with silver highlights, and the G-Diffuser pods were painted a deep blue. The pods were currently in lockdown, though if Terrany's suspicions were right, they could be opened to provide an additional four Diffusion Thrusters to the main two in the rear. Any fool would recognize an Arwing when they saw one.

Milo tapped her on her shoulder, and Terrany remembered to close her mouth. "Project Seraphim is an experimental design and development program funded and run by the Cornerian Air Force, and supported by government subcontractors at Arspace Dynamics. We're off the books and off record. This is the newest generation of the Arspace Arwing. It maintains its role as an atmospheric superiority and space combat aircraft."

"It looks like the Model K."

"We've come a long ways from the Model 1 that your grandfather used to fight Andross seventy-five years ago. And this thing goes beyond the Model K as well." Milo chuckled and led her towards them. The gantry was still whirring away, rotating the end of the assembly until both Arwings were pointed up at a ninety degree angle. A trio of landing feet dropped from the end of the assembly's back section and clamped down on the ground, stabilizing it.

As they came closer, Terrany saw that one of the Arwings already had a pilot inside, though it was hard to make out any finer details in the dying light. "So what makes this thing different?"

"For one, this thing comes standard with a pair of Hyper Lasers in the nose, as opposed to the single that the Model K carries. It also carries a self-sustaining fusion reactor instead of the standard fission core, which makes it slightly bigger than your average model, but makes it suited for extended tours." The raccoon clucked his tongue. "That's just scratching the surface, but it'll do for now. Officially, this thing is the Arwing X-1: X for Experimental. Unofficially, it goes by a more appropriate name. We call it the Seraph Arwing."

Terrany swallowed a bit to calm her excited nerves, and looked up to the unoccupied one. "So what's this test going to be like?"

_"Simple enough, kid." _A female voice from the second Seraph announced. _"We go up and have at it. If you can hold your own, you're on the team. If not, we leave you here to dust crops the rest of your life."_

"Hell of a choice." Terrany grumbled. "So who's the piece of work I'll be blasting to scrap? Dana, wasn't it?"

Milo coughed nervously. "Dana Tiger's one of the other pilots on our development team. She's logged in more hours flying the Seraph than any of us, but that was her job to begin with, as our only professional test pilot."

"Huh." Terrany strolled over beside the first aircraft. "So who else do you have on board your team of pilots?"

"Just one other person, but he's gone on assignment." Milo said evasively. "You'll be flying in my 'Wing, so just be careful not to get too many dings in it."

Terrany began to tighten down the straps of her flight jacket. "I wasn't planning to. Anything else I need to worry about, Mr. Granger?"

"Call me Milo." The raccoon insisted. "You're not my insurance agent. And yeah, there's probably a few other things. That's another reason why we brought along another person. Ulie!"

Right on cue, the thick-waisted ursine poked his snout out of the transport's rear entrance. "Yeah?" He wiped his hands onto a towel and flung it over his shoulder, heading for them.

"Ulie, I'd like you to meet Terrany Anne McCloud. Terrany, this is Ulie Darkpaw, one of our technicians and resident knowitalls."

The mechanic wore a work jacket similar to the kind worn by the crews in the Air Force, and held himself like an experienced technician. Ulie smiled and nodded to Terrany. "They only think we know everything because if we didn't give that illusion, they wouldn't like us as much. So what's Milo told you about this bird?"

"Twin Hyper Lasers, a fusion reactor for extended deployment, and a bizarre project nickname."

Ulie laughed and led her to the side of Milo's Arwing. "In case you were wondering, I had nothing to do with the name. We have a few worshippers of the Creator in our team who decided to cobble together the moniker. Although, I'll give them credit for providing a name which describes this thing's abilities." He pulled a remote out of his pocket and clicked a button, and the extended launch gantry dropped a set of collapsible steps that led up to the vertical cockpit.

Milo cupped his hands over his mouth. "Get her ready for launch quick, Ulie! Dana's already begun her countdown.

The ursine snarled a malediction and shook his head. "Honestly, is there no time for romance? You don't force a beauty like this, you have to prod her, coax her to open her wings!"

Terrany affixed a deadening stare on the mechanic. "You might want to rethink that."

Ulie Darkpaw blinked a few times, then looked at her curiously. "Are you honestly telling me that you can look at this magnificent flying machine and not be impressed with it?"

Terrany's temper deflated immediately, along with a measure of her pride. "Oh."

Ulie, as any mechanic too excited with his job was wont to do, completely missed the line of thinking and went on. "Well, come on, then. We have to get you inside of this thing and powered up before Miss Tiger decides to launch and scald the fur right off of me. Odai?"

_"Active." _Came a calm electronic voice from the empty Arwing. Terrany froze and glanced up at it curiously. _"Awaiting instructions."_

"Open the cockpit and prepare for launch."

Terrany felt Ulie begin to push her up the collapsible titanium steps of the gantry rigging. "Now, hold on just a min…"

_"Voiceprint not recognized; unauthorized personnel. Explanation request."_

Ulie let out a sigh. "Honestly, the thing's so damn stubborn some days. Odai, verify authorized crew Ulie Darkpaw, verification Two-Two-Oh-Four."

_"Identity confirmed, mechanic Darkpaw. Awaiting instructions."_

"Register new pilot, authorization Seraphim-Oh-One."

_"Acknowledged. New pilot, please state your name."_

Terrany found that she had reached the top of the stairs, and was now face to canopy with the cockpit. Somewhere along the outer hull of the aircraft, speakers had been talking to her. Some sort of automated control system, she figured.

Ulie nudged her in the back. "You have to talk to it."

"Uhh…my name's Terrany…Terrany McCloud."

_"New pilot confirmed. Welcome, Terrany McCloud. Voiceprint has been saved. Do you desire passcode authentication for future use?"_

Terrany paled. "No, I don't think I could remember one right now."

_"Passcode authentication refused. Voiceprint identification will be used. Pilot McCloud, welcome aboard."_

The cockpit hissed with released pressure as the canopy opened, and Terrany stared inside.

It was very much like any other Arwing cockpit she'd ever seen. She had only ever flown the Model K, though, which was unofficially referred to as the "Arwing Mark II" by most people.

"This should be your standard gun and run dogfight, from what I've been told." The bear behind her drawled. "Go ahead and hop in; Odai's already begun the powerup sequence, so the G-Diffusers should have settled a field over the cockpit for you."

Terrany hesitantly swung over and flung herself into the aircraft, and found herself temporarily disoriented as the gravity of Katina ceased to pull her down towards the ground, and the aircraft's hull acted as her new floor. It was sort of like falling sideways, but it made settling into the Arwing a breeze. A moment later, after adjusting herself so that she could look 'sideways' at Ulie without suffering vertigo, Terrany gave him a frown.

"Who's this voice that we've been talking to? Some kind of control AI?"

Ulie beamed proudly. "We call it ODAI: Online Diagnostic Artificial Intelligence. Odai is what separates the Seraph from everything else that's come before. It can do a lot more than just track ship system statistics, though…a lot more."

He seemed to glaze over for a bit before snapping out of his reverie and smiling back at her. "Well, Miss McCloud, good luck. I'd best get down before Dana takes off. Odai, prep the ship for Training Combat Exercise Alpha-Two and seal the cockpit."

_"Alpha-Two Exercise confirmed; Hyper Lasers offline. Particle Blasters online. Photon detectors enabled. Please clear all arms from the cockpit exterior, canopy is closing."_

The blue-tinted canopy began to whir back up over the cockpit, making ready to seal Terrany within. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she craned her neck to get her head down underneath (Or was it beside?) the closing transparent aluminum. "Hold on! Ulie, I've got more questions!"

The bear winked back and gave her a thumbs up. "Ask Odai." He chirped in, and scampered down.

The canopy closed and sealed with another hiss of air, and Terrany found herself in climate controlled emptiness.

Various panels blinked up at her, and she took in a deep breath. "Fffffuck." She muttered.

_"Command not recognized; please elaborate."_

"Shut up." Terrany growled to the faceless digitized voice. It was completely devoid of any spirit at all, just a disembodied automaton. Her fur was standing on end because of it. The thought of another presence in the aircraft had been surprising at first.

It had since degraded to frustratingly disturbing.

ODAI apparently understood 'shut up', because the AI fell silent. A slight shudder trembled through the launch gantry, and Terrany looked down the nose, straight up into the air in time to see the Arwing piloted by the mysterious Dana Tiger shooting off with its twin plasma thrusters burning.

The communicator chirped online, and for the first time, Terrany was able to see her opponent. It was headshot only, relayed along the frequency for identification's sake.

"Whenever you're ready to dance, kitten, I'll be waiting." She was an attractive enough tigress with orange fur, but there was a hardness in her expression.

Milo appeared on the frequency next, more pleasant than his associate. "All right, that's enough, Dana. No sense egging her on yet. This will be your standard one on one engagement. You have a ceiling of ten miles, and clearance thirty miles in any of the compass directions. That's why we picked the Pheran Desert for this exercise: Out of the way, empty, and with nothing around that we have to worry about crashing into."

The raccoon coughed, and went on. "Ulie, did you set the laser strength in my Arwing for Terrany?"

"That's a big ten-four, sir!" The ursine bellowed proudly.

"Mine are set at minimal power as well." Dana added. "I'm going into silent mode. Combat will begin ten seconds after launch, Miss McCloud."

"Wonderful. I come here to fly again, and the first thing you have me do in an experimental aircraft is take it out for a firefight." Terrany sighed.

Milo laughed a little. "And you wouldn't have it any other way, if I'm right about you."

Terrany reached an arm up and across her face to reach for the helmet waiting inside. It conveniently hid her smile.

"Be sure to ask your onboard AI any questions you might have. Once you're ready, just tell it to begin the launch sequence and Odai will handle the rest."

"Does everybody on this project put their lives into the hands of these bodiless robots?" Terrany asked bluntly.

Milo was a little surprised at the comment, but nodded. "Have faith in it. You'd be surprised what it can do for you. Good flying, Terrany."

The comm line went silent, and Terrany slipped the flight helmet over her head. Like most other standard issue helmets she'd worn, it was more or less three pieces of metal that wrapped around the sides of her head and curved over the top and met at the back. There was space at the top for her headfur to get out and keep her cool.

She noticed the difference immediately; along the ridge that ran the top of her skull, there were several bumpy protrusions that pressed against her head. "That's new." She mused, storing the tidbit away for later. She pulled the harness over her body and buckled herself in, and at last turned for the controls.

"Standard control stick, touch-sensitive throttle diode bar, gyroscopic maneuvering pedals, multipurpose diagnostic readout panel, radar monitor…Along with a few other bells and whistles." She droned, finding little that was new or upsetting.

Her index finger came to rest over the red trigger embedded in the control stick, and she smiled. "All right. It's time to play? Let's play."

_"Query: Do you wish to initialize launch sequence?"_

Terrany winced. "Yeah, I suppose. Do you have to talk to me?"

_"I was designed for the Seraph Arwing for the purpose of increasing pilot and aircraft synergy. Furthermore, I can…"_

"Save it." She cut it off. "If I need something, I'll ask you. Otherwise, can it, all right?"

_"Very well." _ODAI chirped back quickly. Almost brusquely, Terrany noticed.

She blinked a few times, then shook it off.

The fusion reactor went to work, producing only a thrum which became so much white noise. The twin plasma thrusters in the back began to whine up to full power as its hydrogen synthesis modules began to collect and burn the fuel.

To either side of the cockpit, her blue G-Diffusers cracked open in the front and began to put themselves to work in generating a field which would turn it into the most impressive atmospheric fighter ever seen. Unlike the Model K, they did not open in the back.

Terrany frowned. "Odai, the G-Diffusers haven't opened in the back. Are the quad thrusters in the back malfunctioning?"

_"Error: The Seraph Arwing is not equipped with thrusters in the rear compartment of the G-Diffuser pods."_

"What?" She exclaimed, taken aback. "But wouldn't that wreck its maneuverability?"

_"The Diffuser units on the Seraph surpass performance expectations of prior Arwing models; rear additional thrusters are unnecessary."_

Terrany blinked a few times. "You're kidding me."

_"Negative. Be advised: Launch in T minus fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen."_

Terrany rested her left arm on the provided cushion and kept the control stick steady. Her right hand drummed underneath the thruster touchpad. "Well then, I guess it's time."

Time for a lot of things. Time to move on.

Time for another chance.

Time to finally prove what she was made of. And this time, nobody would ever take her out of the skies again.

Ever.

_"Two. One. Launch."_

Terrany jerked her right arm forward, and her fingertips dragged across the sensitive diode bar, taking it from idle to maximum power in the blink of an eye.

Like a phoenix reborn, Terrany Anne McCloud shot off into the skies above, whooping all the way.

She was happy.


	3. Proving Ground

_**STARFOX LEGENDS: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER THREE: PROVING GROUND

Inside of the transport carrier, Milo felt the shudder from Terrany's launch run through the stationary aircraft. Ulie barreled up from behind and sat down nearby. "Boy, those things are mighty powerful when they take off, aren't they?"

Milo twitched his ears and smiled. "They're beasts." He walked over to the holographic radar and began typing. "All right. The both of them are in the air, and we've got good signal. I'm launching the cameras."

He pushed a button nearby and the transport yawned as a dozen rockets shot off after the Arwings. After a while, they each took a different position about the battlefield and assumed a hovering stationary position. Beyond eyesight, each rocket blossomed out to form a camera pod that began transmitting back to the ship.

Ulie picked up a portable display monitor as wide as his stomach. "I've got a good signal, sir."

"Good, bring it over here and link it up with the main viewscreen." Milo murmured. "Set it to standard operations and recording."

Twelve images of Terrany's aircraft appeared on the screen, before the camera which held the best angle took dominance of the system and drowned out the others.

Milo nodded. "Good. Nice to know that the Godsight system works like it's supposed to." He slipped a headset over his pointed ear and cleared his throat. "Dana, she's airborne. Take it easy on her at first, would you? The kid's got to get her bearings in that thing."

_"And you won't be offering any advice from the ground?" _His wingmate asked.

"Me? Nah, I'll be too busy getting drunk at the monitors to pay attention." Milo joked. "Just remember, we're here to collect data on her, and we can't do that if you shoot her down in the first ten seconds of the engagement."

_"Collect fast." _Dana commented brusquely, and the comm line went quiet.

Milo sighed and looked over to Ulie. "I get the feeling this is going to be a bloodbath. Watch the system diagnostics on my ship closely for any irregularities."

"Anything in particular?"

"Structural fatigue." Milo clarified, turning his head back to the spherical holographic radar, where two arrow-shaped specks began to turn for each other. "I get the feeling Terrany'd sooner fly that thing to pieces before she conceded defeat."

* * *

Terrany looked to her radar, checking the location of Dana's Arwing. Straight above her, and diving down.

"First rule: Secure the upper hand before attacking, and keep the sun behind you." The ex-Academy pilot pursed her lips. "Even if it isn't high noon up there, it's school all over again."

ODAI, true to his word, kept silent. Terrany edged her own Arwing up and throttled the twin plasma engines to the boost stage. Synthesized hydrogen screamed and exploded behind her, producing a trail of ionized gas that followed her aircraft up in its climb.

Terrany was surprised when the cockpit canopy suddenly darkened in a wave, like someone had run dark paint across the surface. The faint nighttime glare of Solar, the nearest of Lylat's two stars slackened off, and she could see Dana's Arwing nosediving down at her. "Odai, what the Hell just happened?" She asked, lining up so that her nose was lined straight up with the enemy plane.

_"Electro-conductive opacity crystals are installed in the X-1 series' canopy." _Short and to the point. In a lot of ways, it was like the technology that people used with their eyeglasses when they went outdoors. Only faster. And for a plane.

Terrany could learn to like this.

_Rule Six: If your opponent dives on you, fly to meet him._

Her training still set in her mind, Terrany held her fire. Dana did as well, both proving their mettle. Neither wavered in their course, or reached for the trigger until they were within three hundred yards of one another; optimal 'kill' range for the lancing bolts of their training lasers.

Twin sets of orange fire shot out between the two glimmering silvery white craft, and long before the first of the stringed blaster bolts struck home, the two Arwings were spinning about on their central axis. A hazy shield of gravitic energy formed about the ships, deflecting the blistering energy safely away from them.

They passed each other just as they came out of their spins, and Terrany's sharp eyes spanned the distance from her cockpit to Dana Tiger's.

The feline was actually smiling.

Terrany kicked in the retrothrusters with her left foot, yanking the Arwing's control yoke hard about.

_"No impacts detected. Damage assessment: Arwing shields intact. Continue simulation."_

"Don't tell me what I already know!" Terrany snapped at the onboard AI, nosing the craft about.

The radar indicated Dana was swinging about for another pass. Terrany's own turn had set her up on the inside loop of the curve, if she could manage this next stunt.

The problem was, the wing controls weren't where her right hand expected to find them.

"Odai, I need wing control! Where is it?"

_"Wing controls are located just to the right of the thruster sensor bar."_

Terrany's pinkie and ring finger stretched out away from the touch-sensitive slider, and sure enough, found a second slider mechanism within easy reach, with three marked positions and a locking toggle.. A brief look down revealed that the switch was in the middle position, interceptor mode, with the indicator showing the wings at twenty degrees. The bottom selection appeared to be launch mode; fully tucked in. The top one was what she wanted; all-range mode, with a seventy-five degree angle on the wings for atmospheric superiority. Lower speed, but sharper handling.

"Somebody was thinking here…" She murmured.

Dana was beginning to curve in towards her. Another two seconds and the tigress would be set up for another full attack run, and this time, a glittering storm of orange photons had collected on the Arwing's nose.

Terrany's ring finger pressed down on the wing shifter's toggle lock at the slider's center, freeing it from interceptor mode. She pushed it up to the top position and simultaneously pushed the thrusters to maximum, forcing herself forward even while the Arwing's variable swing wings whirred into motion.

A half mile off, Dana saw Terrany blasting towards her. "Well, well…the kit wants to dance." She mused, still smiling. "Shall I lead?"

* * *

The irritating chirp of lock-on resounded in the cockpit, and Terrany flashed her fangs. _Damn, I didn't get enough of a jump on her!_

The ball of light shot off from the enemy Arwing's nose and trailed towards her, a beautiful sphere that under normal circumstances would deplete her shields by ten to fifteen percent. She didn't care to risk the estimate of a simulated blast, either.

_"Warning. Laser lock detecte…"_

"Shut UP ALREADY!" Terrany snarled, gripping the yoke tighter. Her eyes remained glued to the orange orb that seemed to float lazily for her aircraft.

A half dozen low-power blaster bolts flung themselves through the orb and crashed against her shields. Even though the damage was minimal, the disruptions they caused were enough to send a rumble through the Arwing as its G-Diffuser compensated for the fluctuating energy.

"Damnit!" Terrany swore, throwing her craft into another barrel roll.

_"Damage received: Simulated shield strength at…"_

"You wanna be helpful?" Terrany interrupted, leveling the Arwing off long enough to throw it into a loop. "Display shield strength somewhere and let me figure it out!"

Conveniently enough, a gauge appeared in the lower left corner of the canopy, just by the fuselage. As Terrany swung the Arwing out of the full 360 and aimed the nose down, she checked it: 84 percent 'simulated' energy remaining to the deflectors.

Another barrage of laser bolts came at her head on as she came out of the turn, but Terrany was already turning into another barrel roll. The shots skittered off in all directions, rendered harmless by a moment of instinct, or clairvoyance. "Fool me once…" She muttered, holding down her own trigger.

Dana's eyes widened. Not only had Terrany skillfully avoided the crash of the devastating targeting laser, but she'd also deflected the second barrage as she came out of the lock-defeating loop. More importantly, Dana's Arwing was now chirping at her. Terrany had locked on.

"What the heck?" The tigress growled, trying to weave away for a loop. The maneuver did her little good, thanks to their proximity. Dana had closed the distance between them in setting up her attack path, and now had no room left to maneuver.

The homing shot crashed directly above her canopy, and the Arwing shuddered to compensate. Even at the low-powered setting, a homing blast could shake the rafters. Swearing to herself, Dana nosed the Arwing for the ground and hit the boosters to avoid the followup salvo. It hit her almost immediately that she'd made a very crucial mistake.

Terrany grinned and dove after the test pilot. _Rule Two: If you begin an attack, always follow through!! _Ignoring the logical course of a second homing burst, Terrany began to weave and trail after Dana. The tigress didn't make it easy, rolling and weaving unpredictably all the way down to the surface. Several times, Terrany's shots seemed to be lined up perfectly, only to miss and dissipate farther down as Dana maneuvered the plane with a cool and composed attitude.

A few blasts grazed the edges of Dana's shields, though, enough that one hundred feet above the ground, she leveled off and kicked in the boosters. The last of Terrany's laser blasts scoured holes into the ground, putting off smoke from where the grass had incinerated.

Terrany edged her nose up away from the ground and towards Dana, and accelerated up as well. She didn't notice the sudden flaring burn of her opponent's retrothrusters until she was fifteen feet behind.

A fraction of a second later, Terrany was flying in front of Dana Tiger: The perfect target.

Inside the cockpit, Dana lined up her gunsights on Terrany's tail and heard the familiar beep of a lock.

"You can't stick by the rules all the time, pup."

* * *

Milo whistled. "Damnation. Ulie, did you see that?"

The black-furred bear nodded slowly, his eyes temporarily frozen to the viewscreen. The Godsight camera pods allowed a perfect view of the action no matter where the two Arwings flew.

"Just look at 'em." Ulie breathed, watching Terrany hurl Milo's borrowed Arwing into another loop, narrowly avoiding the crash of Dana's charged blast. Dana was already climbing up on her tail and firing away, but the vixen was rolling all through the maneuver, deflecting the shots away. "They're both making those things dance. And I didn't even know you COULD roll during an evasive loop!"

Milo drummed his fingers on the console next to the holographic radar and nodded. "Most people can't. I couldn't, on a good day. You know, that's why the Arwing never became a general use fighter for the Cornerian Defense Forces. It takes a special kind of pilot to handle an Arwing and its G-Diffusers with any skill."

"What do they say, there's like, 300 or so pilots that can fly the Model K?"

The ring-tailed raccoon nodded gravely.

Ulie looked back to the readouts on the Seraph Terrany was flying; 70 percent simulated shielding remaining, and so far, only minor structural strain. A miracle, considering what she was putting it through. "So tell me…why is it that we're testing her again?"

"Simple." Milo replied. "Of the pilot population that can fly an Arwing, initial testing told us that less than 5 percent of them had the reflexes, focus, and brain chemistry to endure everything we put into this plane."

"…Her?"

"Her brother was. And probably her as well, which is why we're here on this rock." Milo chuckled grimly. "I suppose some species have all the luck. Keep watching, Ulie. If I'm right, which I usually am, you're about to see the real Terrany McCloud."

* * *

Barrel rolling had its uses: In the old age of flying, it allowed a fighter to drop altitude quickly while maintaining its attitude. The advent of the G-Diffuser and its subsequent implementation in the SFX Arwing and its descendants transformed its purpose to a defensive maneuver. By tapping into the artificial gravity well that the Diffusers exerted, the Arwing was polarized just enough that laser blaster shots were deflected away before they could ever strain the shields.

A queasy feeling finally hit her stomach as she finished her fifth consecutive tumble. The G-Diffusers minimized the forces that would normally be exerted on the pilot to a minimum, little more than a nudge here or there most of the time. No amount of gravity diffusion, however, could stop the vertigo that came from watching the world spin about endlessly. She had tried to keep her vision centered on a focal point, but the sheer volume of laserfire echoing around her had caused her to lose focus.

The Arwing's safeties kicked in and began leveling her back off from the last spin; The original designers, bless their hearts, had put in that feature to prevent crashes resulting from pilot blackout.

More impacts rattled the aircraft frame, and Terrany watched the shield gauge, simulated or no, slowly begin to dwindle down towards the crucial 45 percent marker. Past that, and the Arwing began to limit its top speed automatically to prevent wind shear from tearing it apart.

"DAMNIT." Terrany growled, pushing her nausea aside. The Arwing whined as she jerked the yoke back, whipping it into the beginning of another loop.

Dana's laserfire began to follow Terrany up, but this time, instead of completing the loop, the youngest McCloud kept her Arwing inverted at the top of the arc and punched the thrusters again, implementing a U-Turn. Just like she'd hoped, Dana was unable to follow her. One glance at the radar revealed that the enemy Arwing was turning to meet her.

So far, Dana had kept the upper hand through most of the engagement. It was clear she knew the Advanced in and out; enough to push it to do things that Terrany couldn't manage.

Which meant, as it usually did in such cases, Terrany reached for a wild idea.

She banked into a sharp right turn, curving about so that her aircraft and Dana's formed a circle in their slides. "Odai, I hope you're half as useful as you claim to be, because I have an idea."

_"What did you have in mind, Pilot McCloud?"_

"The name's Terrany." The pale-furred vixen retorted. "Tell me, can you isolate thruster controls?"

_"I can. For what reason?"_

Terrany grinned wider and told ODAI exactly why, and the Arwings roared closer to each other.

Dana watched as Terrany flew straight at her, lasers blazing orange fire long before she entered range. "Dumb move, kid." She muttered, biding her time before spinning into a barrel roll and firing her own blasters.

The spin disoriented her only slightly, but she didn't notice that Terrany had flung her nose straight up until they were nearly on top of one another. Dana swore and dove down slightly, while Terrany's Arwing continued to somersault lazily above her.

Somersault.

Arwings didn't turn backflips, Dana realized. She took a second look, and realized why the Arwing was maintaining its forward momentum while spinning in a backwards arc.

Terrany had disengaged the engines.

The shields whined to keep up with the sudden increase in wind shear, and the Arwing rattled as the air buffeted the whole of its fuselage. Terrany grit her teeth and ignored the warning alarms that were lighting up in the cockpit. ODAI said nothing, fully committed to Terrany's plan of action.

She kept her eyes down the nose of the Arwing, and waited.

At last, Dana's own aircraft rocketed past, and she was aligned.

Terrany began to toggle the trigger rapidly with her index finger, shoved the thrusters to booster phase once again, and retracted the wings into interceptor mode. "BURN 'EM!!" Terrany screamed.

Commanded by ODAI's instantaneous authority, the Arwing's plasma thrusters kicked back into life with a deafening roar. The gees were intense enough that Terrany was shoved back against her seat, but the unorthodox tactic paid off.

A dozen orange laser bolts peppered Dana's shields, and when the tigress tried to turn and flee, Terrany cut across the inside of her bank with the increased speed that interceptor mode offered and blazed her cannons for all they were worth.

After five seconds of relentless battering, a comm channel opened up and Dana's Arwing leveled off. "All right, kids, that's enough." Milo's cheerful voice announced. "We have a confirmed kill: Dana Tiger, three minutes and forty two seconds in."

Terrany pulled the thrusters back to cruising mode and relaxed in her seat. "Sheeze."

"McCloud, what the Hell kind of stunt was that?" Dana's irritable voice blared over the Seraph's speakers.

Terrany smiled. "The dumb kind. But it worked, didn't it?"

"With that said, Ulie's reading significant strain in the wing struts. In any other plane besides an Arwing, you would have broken up in midair." Milo criticized her. "That was a risky gamble, especially with my plane."

Terrany flew up beside Dana and rolled her neck. "I'll write you a check later, if you want. But tell me: Did I pass?"

"…Yes, you passed." Dana admitted begrudgingly. Terrany looked over to the tigress in her own cockpit, and saw that Dana was looking back at her.

Where there'd been disdain before, there was some sense of respect.

Terrany smiled. "So…does this make us wingmates now, too?"

"We'll see, McCloud. We'll see." Dana turned her eyes back to the front. "Milo, I'm going to land for a while and recuperate. Why don't you help Terrany land that thing back in the launch cradle?"

"I think I can manage that." The raccoon's cheerful voice replied. Dana's Arwing swung off and turned south, and Terrany found herself alone in the skies.

She muted her microphone and sighed. "Hell of a first day. How was that, Odai?"

_"Unusual comes to mind." _The AI replied, frank enough that Terrany looked down to the digital display with a curious gaze. _"You are an unusual pilot."_

"Says the talking computer." Terrany rubbed behind her ear. "But you know, you're not half bad in a pinch."

_"My role is to serve and augment the…"_

"I know, I know. Jeez, just take the compliment." Terrany stretched out inside the cockpit as best as she could and yawned. "So what do you know about Dana?"

_"That pilot is not registered for this aircraft."_

Terrany winced. "Huh. I guess you don't know everything."

Then the radar chirped.

Somebody had locked on.

Terrany's head shot up from the padded comfort of the pilot's seat. "What?!"

_"New enemy aircraft detected." _

Terrany turned her head from the radar to the night sky above. The new aircraft was barely a speck, but the charge it had fired was clearly visible.

A ball of green light descended, tracking a course for her fighter.

"Oh SHIT."

The homing shot exploded around her with tempest force, dulling her senses with light and furious noise. As the Arwing pulled free of the storm, ODAI's calm voice broke her free of her stupor.

_"Combat damage sustained: Shields at 74 percent actual strength. Simulation conditions breached . Activating hyper lasers. Engage." _

Terrany yelped and rolled to starboard, narrowly avoiding a stream of blue laser shots. "Those shots are real." She breathed, suddenly afraid.

This wasn't a simulation. Somebody was trying to kill her. And then her comm crackled and switched frequencies.

A low, growling voice echoed in the cockpit.

_**"Time to die, McCloud."**_


	4. Adrenaline

_**STARFOX LEGENDS: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER FOUR: ADRENALINE

"Another Arwing?!" Milo bellowed, gripping the edge of his console hard enough to crack the plastic. "Where the Hell did it come from?!"

Ulie had been searching for the newcomer's approach vector since the moment it appeared. He finished typing in the variables and blinked. "Entry point is high orbit. Trajectory puts it at a 78 percent chance from deep space."

Dana's voice was frantic. _"I'm coming back in, moving to engage!"_

A new signal popped on the main frequency, and the incoming bogey suddenly gained an IFF marker on the holographic radar. Milo stared at the flashing red flag with an R above the new ship. "…Rourke?"

Up on the monitors, the godsight pods recorded another burst of hyper laser fire rattling Terrany's ship. Milo's shock became rage. "Damnit, Rourke, what do you think you're doing?!"

_**"Stay out of this, Granger." **_A growling voice warned. _**"Same goes for you, Dana." **_

_"Rourke, you crazy son of a…" _Dana swore. She was cut off when the new Arwing killed the power to his radio. _"…He hung up on me!! That no good, backstabbing…"_

Milo muted the feed from Dana's ship and rubbed at his temples. "Not good." He groaned. "Not good."

Ulie drummed his fingers. "I thought Rourke was on assignment."

"I guess he finished and decided to drop in. He's unpredictable sometimes."

"Is there anything we can do?" Ulie asked.

"Not with Rourke up there." Milo said after a pause. He sunk back into his chair and kept his eyes glued to the radar. "He's got some kind of a bee in his bonnet, and the only person who could ever snap him out of a funk was Skip."

The raccoon's tail whipped behind him nervously. "I have a hunch he came here to test her. I hope so, anyway."

"And if he didn't?"

Milo chewed on his lip, then shrugged. "Well, then, I guess I'll need a new plane."

* * *

Terrany kept enough sense in her head, despite the panic that filled it, to roll away from his next barrage.

Shield strength read at 57 percent, not good by anybody's book, but especially terrible given her situation. An unknown assailant, piloting an aircraft the same as hers.

_"Target identified: Model X-1 Arwing. Registry…"_ ODAI froze for a moment, and Terrany glimpsed down at the diagnostic readout panel. ODAI was in communication with someone. _"Registry unknown." _ODAI finished, after that crucial hesitation.

"Blast it, Odai, who is it?!" Terrany demanded.

_**"Does it matter?" **_The same murderous voice inquired, just as the Arwing pulled up behind her and locked on. Terrany swore and threw her craft into another loop, spinning all the way as hyper laser shots flew around her. The pilot, whoever he was, was good…His shots tagged her between rolls, and ceased while she performed the laser deflective maneuver. _**"You're pathetic." **_The voice added contemptuously, weaving away when Terrany hit the brakes to try and make him shoot past her into her gunsights. _**"Twenty seconds in, and you've already lost? I'll be doing the galaxy a favor by killing you.."**_

Terrany shivered and tried to follow after him. Her aim was shaky and terrible, and the Arwing avoided every last one of her shots. _**"The best of the Academy? Go ahead and hit the eject button. Let your plane die with some dignity. Expiring while you're in the cockpit would taint it."**_

The enemy fighter swung about in a sharp bank and exposed the whole of its fuselage to Terrany's sights. She fired off a barrage, but her foe braked and rolled to deflect the opening shots. When her leading edge of fire cleared his nose, the pilot swung his bank to the opposite direction and boosted from her range of fire.

Terrany roared in frustration and turned to follow him, but he had boosted far ahead of her.

Terrany grit her teeth and held in the trigger of the yoke. "What the Hell is he trying to do? Kill me with blasters or beration?" One of her fangs grazed along her lip, and she snapped her head to the radar monitor. "Odai, how are we holding up?"

_"Shield strength has regenerated to 59 percent. Minor damage to redundant systems. Please engage."_

"Blast it, what do you think I've been doing?!" Terrany shouted at the AI, maneuvering her Arwing until the enemy ship was lined in her gunsights. The radar chimed as it locked on, and she fired off the charged green bolt.

She hit the thrusters and closed the distance, turning the nose up as the enemy plane began its lock-defeating loop. Another barrage of laserfire arced in front of his path, and while she saw many of her shots bounce harmlessly off of his gravity well during a hasty barrel roll, a few made it past and crackled against his shields.

Her radio crackled to life. _"Terrany, it's Milo!" _The voice of the ring-tailed raccoon brought a measure of sanity back to her, and Terrany relaxed a bit.

"Milo, who is this clown?!"

_"He's Rourke, our…"_

The transmission cut off with a squealing bombardment of high frequency noise, and Terrany cringed for the half second it took before the radio went dead.

_"Signal interrupted. Jamming source confirmed: Enemy Arwing." _ODAI announced.

Terrany felt the Arwing shudder under another barrage of shots, and swiveled her head about. "He was just…How did he…?"

_**"So, you know my name." **_The voice growled, and a second burst of blasterfire knocked her shields down to 52 percent. _**"I suppose it's right you should know who's going to end your life."**_

Terrany cried out and hurled her Arwing into another loop. ODAI was keen to remind her of their problems.

_"Warning: Further damage will lead to loss of atmospheric maneuverability. Exercise caution." _

Her heart beat faster and faster, and Terrany saw Rourke's aircraft shoot underneath hers. He hadn't fired that time.

He was playing with her, like a cat to a wounded mouse.

"Why are you doing this?!" Terrany screamed, thinking on impulse that if he could goad her, he could certainly hear her talking as well.

There was a pause, and then a cruel chuckle echoed over the line. _**"Call me a strict evolutionary. You want to keep your life, McCloud?"**_

Somehow, he'd turned around in the space of two seconds and was flying down her throat. The collision warning blared around her, and the cockpit was aglow with red lights.

In between beeps, Terrany heard his voice, and felt time curl and stop around his words.

_**"Then fight for it!"**_

Terrany's breath hitched. A primal thought surged forward, long buried but never forgotten.

The training had never been enough. The Academy had never been enough. She'd never…never been in a situation like this.

With no time for words, only thoughts, something in Terrany snapped, and the knife that had cut it flashed aglow.

Survive.

* * *

Aboard the grounded transport carrier, Ulie let out a terrified yelp as his monitors began to scream at him. Milo jerked his head from the radar and glanced over, and found Ulie positively frozen stiff in shock.

He was watching Terrany's synaptic patterns.

They had erupted.

"What the…What's going on?" Ulie asked shakily. Milo walked over and examined the readouts that the ODAI aboard his Arwing was faithfully transmitting back to them, and put on a triumphant smile.

"She woke up."

* * *

Inside his cockpit, the grim specter known as Rourke felt a grim smile cross his lips. Just by the movement of her Arwing, he could tell that something had changed in her.

His hand tensed around the yoke, and he breathed in deeply through his snout. "Fight, damn you."

Terrany's eyes were hard, and she held the Arwing's path steady, streaking a course straight towards the ruthless pilot known as Rourke.

The proximity alarms blared in time with the others. _"Warning: Collision imminent. Evasive maneuvers recommend…"_

"Not a chance in HELL." Terrany growled, squeezing her blaster trigger several times in rapid succession.

_"This course of action is not safe, Pilot McCloud."_

"This isn't a course." Terrany snapped to her computer, sending her Arwing into a straight barrel roll, holding course. "It's chicken!"

Rourke rolled his ship to deflect the opening barrage, but the followup smashed against his shields mercilessly.

**"You're gonna feel that one in the morning." **

"Who asked you?" Rourke mumbled, cringing and finally swearing an oath as he sent his craft into an upwards arc. "Slag it!"

The tinny computerized voice inside his Arwing's memory banks laughed. **"Boy, that's gotta be the first time you've tucked and run like that in a long time!"**

Rourke glanced at his shield gauge, then aimed his Arwing's nose straight up and throttled the boosters. "Prepare for spaceflight." In spite of his frustration at the canny voice of his own machine, he cracked another grin. "Let's see how bad she wants it."

Terrany's blood felt like it was on fire. One glance over her shoulder told her what ODAI and her radar would have otherwise.

Rourke was going up. Far up. "Oh no, you don't." She growled. Her ears bristled, and she jerked her Arwing into an inverted climb.

_"Query: Target is leaving atmosphere. Are we following?"_

"I don't care who he thinks he is, but he's gonna learn something today." Terrany snapped to her artificial counterpart. "You do not FUCK with a McCloud and get away with it!!"

She hit the boosters and her Arwing shot up after the first. An altimeter flashed on the diagnostic readout panel, letting her know that they were passing a thousand meters every one and a half seconds.

Terrany didn't notice.

She just kept on flying.

* * *

The transport carrier shook again as the weight of Dana's Arwing settled back down on the launch gantry. Ulie barely noticed at all, engrossed in the readouts from Terrany and her Arwing. Milo casually glanced over to the rear door as Dana Tiger literally flew from the back hatch.

"Where are they?" Dana demanded angrily.

"Oh, somewhere in the upper stratosphere by…" Milo paused, and chuckled. "Crickets, they're booking. They just hit the mesosphere."

Dana let out a frustrated growl and slammed a fist against the hull of the ship. "Blast it, what the Hell are they doing going up into space?"

Milo yawned, seeming calm after his initial shock. "Well, for one, only Rourke is going. Terrany's just following him. Besides, I couldn't contact Terrany if I wanted to warn her. He's got the communicators jammed."

Dana frowned. "Warn her? What for? She knows he's shooting live ammunition. She's doing it too now."

"Oh, not that." Milo mumbled distantly. The raccoon turned towards Ulie Darkpaw and cleared his throat. "Well? How's the readouts? Is she compatible?"

Ulie hadn't said much since her EKG had gone bananas, and at last he managed a feeble guffaw, then a longer gleeful cackle. "More than compatible! By Lylus, she's…It's just like we suspected! She's better than you, Milo!"

The raccoon chuckled a bit. "Well, that isn't hard. All right. Run the simulation. What does the computer model say about estimated Merge performance?"

The ursine was quick on the keys, and a few seconds later, drew up a comparative chart.

"…Better than you. Better than Dana by a smidge."

"Better than Rourke?" Milo ventured.

Ulie hesitated, then shook his head. "This is just from opening data. As you know, real results are usually different, especially with more experience."

"That much is true." Dana groused. "The simulation shortchanged my capabilities. But what did you mean, Milo, when you said you wanted to warn her?"

The raccoon blinked and reoriented himself. "Oh, that?" He motioned to the radar display, which had blossomed out to show a cross-section of Katina's surface and atmosphere, and the two blinking arrowhead shaped objects that represented the two flying Arwings.

"I don't know if you knew this, Dana…but Rourke flies better in open space than he does on a planet." The raccoon's dark eyes narrowed. "He's led her straight to his playground."

Dana's claws extended out from her paw for a moment as Milo's statement sank in. "Creator help her." She muttered.

* * *

Even within the bubble of shielding and gravitic energy from the G-Diffusers, Terrany could feel the whistle and pressure of the wind slacken off as they shot higher and higher. The radiant blue sky thinned out, growing brighter before finally succumbing to the black starry void.

Spaceflight. No resistance along the fuselage at all. Maximum thrust out here meant a dramatic increase in speed. The boosters, if not for the G-Diffusers aboard the Seraph, would be strong enough to jar her teeth to the back of her skull.

She swallowed hard at the next thought. Combat up here…was a totally different experience.

In the atmosphere, if the shields were breached, if the canopy was riddled with holes, she could still fly. In space…

"One lucky shot and I get sucked through a hole the size of a cred chip." Terrany summarized.

Rourke seemed perfectly at ease in the airless maw, and leveled off from his climb. He spun his wings out to their full span, and turned about to meet her.

"No turning back." Terrany whispered to herself, whirling to engage. She'd pushed herself into this mess by following him. Now, it was just him and her, and the emptiness.

"This might be preferable." She mumbled, charging up her laser. "Nobody to watch me screw up again."

_"I was unaware that you intended to fail." _ODAI chimed in. _"I would not recommend it."_

"Who are you more worried about, bit-boy?" Terrany growled, lobbing the nexus of green light at Rourke. "Me, or your own circuits?"

_"There is no answer to that question which would satisfy you."_

Terrany watched as Rourke easily maneuvered about the charged laser bolt and harrumphed, firing a stream of shots ahead of him. "Smartass." She muttered under her breath. Her pinkie and ring finger stretched over from the throttle and jammed the wing settings from interceptor mode to all-range.

It was the last thing she was able to do before space exploded around her in bristling green energy.

The shuddering from the shields had her on her toes long before ODAI began to state the obvious. _"Concussive laser bl…"_

"I know, shut up!" Terrany growled, rolling out of the miasma and into another hail of hyper laser blasts. Even with the canopy dimming out the brimming light of Solar, the lesser of the binary stars of Lylat, they were little help against the burning light of Rourke's assault.

Seeing stars in her eyes, Terrany jerked her vision away from the canopy and focused solely on the radar.

It gave her just enough focus to hurl her Arwing into a loop.

_**"No good running, McCloud." **_Rourke goaded her, stitching a line of fire after her thrusters. _**"This is my world."**_

Terrany grit her teeth. "Odai, mute the comm!"

A chirp and silence answered her, and she accelerated…but didn't move to complete the loop. "Odai, remember that trick I showed you? We're doing it again!"

_"Implementing engine shutdown on your mark."_

Terrany waited until she'd passed well beyond the arc of his fire, and jerked the yoke back hard. "NOW!"

Where Rourke anticipated her to carry through with the loop, he fired. And just as it had worked on Dana Tiger before, the maneuver of relying on momentum and rotation alone bought Terrany the edge to recover.

Her trick was easier in space, with no air currents to buffet the fuselage and already taxed deflector shields. By the time that the Seraph had finished its backwards rotation, Rourke's nose was pointed up, and the underbelly of the Arwing was fully exposed.

Terrany started firing, and without even being prompted, ODAI reignited the thrusters. She hesitated for two pulls of the trigger before she realized that she'd braced her body on instinct.

_You mean to tell me that this…this goofy computer program predicted my move?_

ODAI, of course, said nothing, and Terrany resumed her firing. Rourke took the surprise assault for only a second or two before he rolled about, flipped over, and sent them both into a curving spiral straight up and away from Katina's gravity well.

For all the dangers, and the residual fear she felt, Terrany still flew. And the more she dodged and weaved, fired off her shots and danced in the space above Katina, the more those fears subsided.

ODAI must have found nothing objectionable in her actions. By the fourth charged blast, Terrany had forgotten he existed. She had no idea that her entire mental state had shifted, and was still shifting. The hum of the Seraph's twin thrusters offered the white noise that stabilized her breathing, and soon Terrany found no need for words.

She and Rourke fought each other, screamed at each other in a language no terrestrial animal could ever fathom. Every blast of hyper laser fire was a staccatoed exclamation point, and every wiggle of the wings was a coquettish turnabout.

In the depths of the void, trying to kill each other, they blocked out everything else but each other. To Rourke, it was just another day.

But as Milo, Ulie, and Dana, miles below in Katina's Pheran Desert could testify as they watched her EKG…

It was the day when Terrany Anne McCloud went from promising pilot to something more.

Their shields decreased in similar increments. 45 percent. 42. 39. Each took a shot, darted out of the way, and found some bizarre, brilliant and insane flight trick which bought them enough of an angle to land another glancing blow upon their other. Terrany's wrath and Rourke's icy murderous intent seemed at a standstill to one another.

Their dogfight, both realized, was little more than a war of attrition. But Rourke had riled something in Terrany that he hadn't bargained for.

To Rourke's absolute shock, she didn't back off, and she didn't radio for a stalemate or cease-fire.

She hit the engines and lit into him, and suddenly a very powerful sentence echoed in his mind.

**If I go down, I'm taking you with me.**

To Terrany, everything was about as right as it could go.

Then the circumstances changed.

His engines went cold. The blue hued G-Diffusers of his Seraph Arwing opened up vertically, then split again horizontally so that each polyhedral diamond became divided into four segments. Most frightening of all, the silver-hued wings began to separate…And two smaller pairs of wings extended out from the main span at 45 degree angled. The six-winged transfiguration made the Arwing resemble something between a butterfly and a hummingbird in its fragile beauty. The small wings flexed exactly twice to level their bearings, and then the Arwing went berserk.

It was the only thing which came to her focused mind: Berserk. One moment it was in front of her, and the next, it was beside her…no, above her…no, behind her, and…

Laserfire the color of an aquamarine sea and a blue giant star rattled her Arwing's shields, and this time, ODAI let the klaxons blare. _"Warning!" _The AI reported. _"Significant power increase of laserfire! Evasive…"_

Terrany wanted to answer that she was taking evasive action: She had pulled every roll, half-loop and braking dive that she could think of since the five seconds between the transformation of the Seraph Arwing and the moment when ODAI deigned to speak to her again, and still it wasn't enough.

Her log panel exploded in a shower of sparks, and ODAI went eerily silent. Terrany winced as she glanced at the residual shield gauge readout before it faded away.

2 percent power remaining.

"…Odai?" Terrany chanced to whisper. She pulled the trigger, and gained another blast of ozone and crackled wiring in the cockpit for her trouble. She coughed as what was left of life support tried to vent out the toxic atmosphere, and waited for a voice that never came.

Instead, she got Rourke.

_**"Good, McCloud…but not good enough. Some other time."**_

The enemy Arwing seemed to drop down beside her, with no visible flight path. It spun in a roll exactly twice, and when it leveled off, the secondary wings retracted and the blue G-Diffusers closed back up to their standard positions.

His engines relit, and in a blinding flash of his boosters, the enigmatic figure known only as Rourke flew off into the span of Lylat, for places unknown.

Terrany sunk back into her chair and tore the helmet off. She was mad, to be sure. Mad at herself, and definitely mad as Hell at this Rourke…whoever he was. The others definitely knew him, though.

Her communicator crackled back on. _"…errany, can you read me? This is Granger, respond!"_

Terrany pulled her hands back from the flight controls and keyed the microphone switch on her helmet. She figured it was probably the only undamaged system on board the now nearly scrapped fighter. "I hear you, Milo. I'm here."

_"We lost the uplink to your ship. Could you have Odai reinitialize?"_

"Odai isn't working anymore." Terrany answered, pounding the fried display panel for added measure. "I'm down to 2 percent shield power, the weapons aren't responding, and I'm pretty sure that Odai's dead in the water."

_"…He'd better not be." _Milo growled, offering the first sign of anger around Terrany for the day. _"Not after all the time I spent getting him to where I wanted him!"_

Terrany shut her eyes and rubbed at her temples. She could feel a headache coming on, from the combination of sudden stress, prolonged adrenaline, and the sickening smell of ozone that the filters had yet to completely remove. "Rourke worked me over proper. I had him until he…"

"Until he what?"

"He did something with his Arwing." Terrany mumbled. "It…changed. Grew extra wings, and then it started bouncing all over the place."

There was silence on the line for several seconds, and the pause was unsettling enough that Terrany opened her eyes back up and frowned. "Milo, what was that?"

_"…That's something we'll tell you about later. When we're back at base, and not above prying ears."_ The ring-tailed raccoon warned ominously. _"Can you make it back to your launch point?"_

"At 2 percent shielding left, I wouldn't trust this thing to a car wash. Besides, my life support's pretty beat up too." She looked out from the canopy to the body and winced at all the scorch marks burnished into the polymer metals. "And this bird's going to need a new coat of paint. Probably a few."

_"Understood. We'll launch the transport carrier and collect you in orbit. Congratulations, Terrany. You passed. Hell, more than passed. You held out against Rourke, and that's something Dana and I could never do."_

Terrany crossed her arms and looked down at the dead display panel, hoping that they'd reach her before what was left of Milo's aircraft died around her. Even a self-sustaining power core couldn't compensate for the intense damage it had taken.

"Milo, I need a straight answer. And cut the sidestepping. Who in the blazing Hells is this Rourke? Why is he flying one of your Arwings? And WHY did he attack me?"

She could hear him sigh on the other end, even as the radio frequency carried over the hum of the transport carrier miles below on Katina soil powering up for flight.

_"He's flying an Arwing because he's the other member of our test squadron. If my guess is right, he attacked you to test you out. And as for who he is? For better or worse…Right now, he's flight leader."_

Terrany's blood went cold, because it was too tired to boil anymore. "What class at the Academy taught him that trying to kill your wingmates was a good training exercise?"

_"Rourke never attended the Academy." _Milo said cryptically. _"You might say…he was home schooled."_

* * *

_Ursa Station_

_Sector X_

_Two Hours Later_

Whether he thought of it as home or not, the pilot of the formerly unknown Seraph Arwing settled his aircraft down on the landing mounts in the bustling secondary hangar bay and powered down his systems. He took a moment to tilt his head back and breathe as the Arwing canopy opened up.

Cool, crisp, recycled and filtered air.

Ursa Station.

Rourke climbed down from his Arwing, and found the floppy-eared General Grey and an armed security detail waiting for him.

The wolf removed his flight helmet and raised an eyebrow. "An honor guard reception? You shouldn't have."

The rugged general crossed his arms and put on his best scowl. "Before I throw you in the brig for attempted murder, would you care to explain _why_ in the Creator's good grace you decided to try and gun our newest pilot down?"

Rourke flashed a predatory grin. "Why, General, I'm surprised at your assumption. If I had wanted to kill her, she wouldn't be on the transport here."

He patted the general on the cheek, not hard, but definitely out of protocol.

General Grey positively fumed. "I ought to ground your disrespectful ass here and now, O'Donnell!"

"I'm already your prisoner. I'm not seeing a difference." Rourke retorted. He relaxed for the benefit of the guards and shrugged. "Besides, I was just fulfilling my responsibilities."

The general sighed and fished inside his pocket for a corncob pipe. "Please, do tell."

Rourke made a meaningful glance to the security guards behind his superior officer, and the canine dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Once they were clear of the secondary hangar bay, Grey affixed his pilot with a grim stare. "Happy?"

Rourke nodded, and the general jammed his corncob pipe in his mouth, chewing the end furiously.

"Tough day, sir?"

"I never realized how much I hated being assigned to this floating bubble until they told me I couldn't smoke." The general snapped. "Now out with it. Why did you try to turn Miss McCloud's ship into a blaster-riddled pile of scrap?"

"The shots that took down her brother weren't any less real." Rourke answered coolly. "She's an Academy brat. She's never seen a day of real action in her life. I needed to know how she'd react under fire."

"Still that's hardly the best approach to take, son. Wasn't there a more gentle way to go around it?"

Rourke O'Donnell pushed himself to his full height of six feet and two inches, beating the general by a good head. "I was put in charge of this flight by Captain Skip McCloud. And until such a time as I'm removed from that position, I will command it the way I see fit. And right now, I need to know that my pilots can do more than fly. They need to fight."

The general blinked. "Do you mean that…"

"I got jumped as soon as I dropped to sublight. They're coming, sir." Rourke's voice was solid, but cold and sharp as an iron blade. "I don't know who they are, but they're coming." Rourke winced as he pulled his jacket off, and the general paled when he saw the burn and singed fur on his wrist.

"My god…You should get to the doctor's, right away!"

"Forget it." Rourke waved him off and kept trudging. "I've got a debriefing report to write."

"But that burn…"

"A panel blew out when I was ambushed. That's all. I've suffered worse. Tell Wyatt's crew to check on the attitude control. It's feeling sluggish."

Rourke's nonchalance about his injury may have been justified by his prior experiences, but he seemed especially aloof today. The general kept pace with him, and posed a guess.

"So…How was she?"

Rourke put on a weak smile and shook his head. "I almost had to concentrate."


	5. Wild Things

_**STARFOX LEGENDS: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER FIVE: WILD THINGS

_Sector X_

_Ursa Station: Primary Hangar Bay, Storage_

Wyatt Toad found that the day was starting out fine and dandy. "Grandpa Slip" had sent him a hilarious electronic greeting card, the coffee machine had actually been _working_ for a change, and best of all, he didn't have to give a morning status report. He hated them, his techs hated them, and everybody else on the command staff fell asleep listening to them.

Then there was the whole business about having to dress up. And Wyatt hated ties. It was probably why he was never too far from his old grimy blue worksuit.

"Morning, sir!"

"Mornin!" Wyatt croaked back, nodding his bulbous head at the squirrel. One of the newbies, he reminded himself; Whipman, he thought.

"Good morning, sir!" One of the launch bay personnel piped up. Wyatt raised his coffee mug in the best imitation of a salute he could offer, given that his right hand was full of a clipboard of documents.

A lynx sidled up next to him and joined his walk; Garfield, one of his trusted cohorts. "You seem in good spirits today, Wyatt."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Wyatt hummed cheerfully, handing over the clipboard of documents. "Here, take care of those, would you?"

"And these are…" Garfield mused, sifting through them.

"Oh, just some maintenance reports. They need one of the engineering officers to sign 'em."

Garfield wrinkled his nose, twitching the long whiskers that came out of it. "Why can't you do it? You're the boss…"

"Which means it's my job to give you the paperwork while I get smothered in servogrease." Wyatt let a warbling sound rumble down in the bottom of his throat and puffed his cheeks out, then took a long draw on his coffee. "Aah, Creator, that's good."

Garfield opened his mouth and put out a few stuttering beginnings of an argument, but eventually ducked his head down and sighed. "Fine. I'll handle it. So while I'm doing your job, what are you going to be doing?"

"Down in storage."

"Aah. Yeah, I heard that Ulie called ahead. Milo's Arwing's gonna need a lot of work."

"Thankfully, most of the damage is on the inside." Wyatt elaborated. "But I'm not digging down for spare parts. I've got to wake up an old pain in the ass."

Garfield froze for a moment, then bounded in front of Wyatt and stopped him in his tracks. "You're not serious." The lynx said, hoping that Wyatt Toad would roll his secondary eyelids and bust out laughing at the sick joke.

Wyatt merely shook his head from side to side. "Wish I was. Keep the kids from blowing this place up, would you?"

"Y-Yeah, sure."

Wyatt stepped around his fellow wrench-turner and patted him on the shoulder. "But don't stifle 'em, either. This place needs nutjobs to run."

"It does?"

"Sure." Wyatt winked, shifting away from the noise and bustle of countless opened spacecraft, welding arcs and power saws for a set of stairs that dropped down into the dark void of storage below. "Madness and bubble gum is all that keeps this place together."

By the time he hit the bottom step of the two story drop into the dark cavernous space below, Wyatt's bubbling optimism had tapered off a few degrees. He polished off his coffee and set it beside all the others on the metal countertop beside the aluminum steps. "Lights!" He bellowed. A dozen guide lamps began to fluoresce on his command, and the emptiness gained borders and support beams.

His steps echoed along the metal floor, reminding the amphibian that only a few scant meters separated his feet from the cold emptiness of space beyond. It had been a little unsettling at first; he hadn't been lying to Garfield when he'd made his comment about the bubble gum. Ursa Station had a close-knit crew, but it was a far cry from a fully funded structure. After all, the Cornerian Defense Forces had better things to spend their money on. Like reclining chairs.

Occasionally, he'd pass a fighter plane that waited along the walls. The other direction had the shelves of spare parts, but in the direction he was walking, there was nothing but planes stowed away to keep floor space in the hangar bay above. A few hydraulic lifts could shuttle them up if need be, and he stepped over the edge of one as he went towards the back.

The dust got thicker the farther on he went, nearly making clouds as his workboots disturbed the layers of sediment. Wyatt resisted the urge to shiver. Nobody had come back this far in months. Nobody would have wanted to, and nobody had needed to.

The thing waiting in the back was reason enough to shy away, and against all reason, Wyatt stopped in front of it.

A motion sensor detected his proximity and hit a light above the vessel that had been called a demon by all who had gotten into it. Even the blue G-Diffuser pods looked ever slightly darker than the others of its kin.

"I wonder if you even changed your skin to suit your mood." Wyatt mumbled.

And then the Arwing woke up.

_**"Did you say something, Toad?" **_

Wyatt flinched for a minute, then chuckled. "Unbelievable." He remarked, surprised that he had been afraid of it for even a second. "Have you been awake all this time?"

_**"Eight months, three weeks, four days, ten hours, and…Well, you get the idea." **_The voice clipped bitterly. _**"I thought about going insane for a while. Thought better of it. There's no fun in being insane when there's nobody around to enjoy it."**_

"You know, you make a valid point." Wyatt agreed, wiggling a finger. "But enough about philosophy, Kit."

The Arwing's flippant AI growled. _**"You came down here for a reason. So go ahead, Wyatt. Unplug me and be done with it. I'm "Little better than scrap," wasn't that what you said when you pigeonholed me?"**_

Wyatt frowned. "If you'll check your memory banks, it was the General who said that. But stow the grudge. You're being put back on active duty."

_**"None of your pilots could fly me. Didn't you get that through your soft-headed skull the last time?"**_

"Circumstances change. They're going to try you again with McCloud."

_**"Are you DEAF, webfoot?!" **_KIT snarled. _**"Carl already tried to…"**_

Wyatt laughed and shook his head. "Geez. Flying off the handle again, Kit? At ease. No, they found a new one. Carl's sister. Terrany McCloud."

KIT fell silent, shocked at the news. Wyatt waited, and eventually the program found the voice to speak. _**"When?" **_He asked, in a whisper. _**"When will she get here?"**_

KIT was either pleased by the news…or more likely, Wyatt reminded himself, just eager to get out of the graveyard.

"Today." The head engineer answered calmly. "She left Katina on a transport with Milo and Dana yesterday."

* * *

Terrany could recall waking up in a lot of different places. She woke up in another one now.

It was likely because the seat wasn't all that comfortable a bed. She opened her eyes and winced at how sore her arm felt.

_My own fault for using it as a pillow. _

A quick glance around puzzled her for a bit until her memory kicked in, and she realized that she was aboard a transport carrier, bound to a place that she knew only by the name that Ulie Darkpaw had mentioned: Ursa Station.

It was different to wake up on a transport en route. Not bad. Just different.

The hatch leading on to the ship's communications array and the cockpit swung open with a groaning creek. The last of her blissful morning blur shattered under the rusty sound. Milo poked his head inside the middle personnel depot and looked towards Terrany. He smiled, and she glared daggers at him. A good way to begin the day.

"Sleep well?" The raccoon asked, twitching his ears. Terrany pulled her jacket off of her shoulders and chest, shivering when the warmth of her makeshift blanket disappeared. She stretched her body out and yawned, popping her claws unconsciously.

"I've slept better."

"After the beating you took, I think you'd have been able to sack out in an artillery field." He joked, stepping inside. He had a cup of something warm and steamy in his hand. "Here. Have some breakfast."

"Thank you." She took it and sipped it slowly. Chicken soup. Delicious. "Where are we?"

"Just outside of the Sector X artificial nebula." Terrany's eyes widened, and Milo couldn't hide his grin. "Don't worry, it's safe. Truth be told, the Space Agency only wants you to _believe_ Sector X is dangerous. They might have been paid off to do that, because it's the best place to hide our experimental program. Arwings tend to attract attention, after all."

Terrany blinked at the mention of their favored fighter. "That reminds me: How's your Arwing doing?"

Milo seemed only slightly upset at the mention of his vessel, and more tired than angry. "Ulie's been burning the midnight oil trying to get it back into shape. The best thing we can do is stay out of the storage bay while he's making repairs. He'd probably rip our heads off for asking about it."

Terrany wasn't sure whether to frown or to laugh. "Does he get grumpy when he's short on sleep?"

"Ulie sees the X-1 a little differently than we do. To us, it's a thing of beauty meant to ply the unfriendly skies. Ulie would prefer if it was kept in a glass case for all eternity. But believe me, there's nobody I'd rather trust to fix my 'Wing than Ulie. Next to the Engineering department head, he's the most devoted tech savant we have."

Milo scratched his chin. "But, he at least told me Odai was intact. I'd feel awful if I lost him."

"Him." Terrany muttered, lowering the soup from her snout. "You mean _it._ It's just a program."

"Is that how you thought of him when you were fighting for your life?" Milo questioned. "If you spend enough time with him, you might change that opinion."

Terrany polished off the cup of soup and stood up. "All right. Where's the head?"

A little deflated, Milo pointed behind her. "Just in the back. It's on your right."

* * *

A few minutes later, Terrany came through the hatch up towards the cockpit. Milo craned his head around the co-pilot's chair and nodded. "Feeling all groomed, are we?"

"Good enough." Terrany rumbled adjusting her old flight jacket's sleeves again. Dana Tiger was at the helm as Milo had explained, and offered only the barest grunt of recognition.

The light of Lylat, or Lylus as some still preferred to call it, was in full glory, and where it struck the gases of the nebulous X-shaped cloud about them, a blue-hued glow expanded out. Terrany couldn't help but stare. "It's beautiful." She commented.

"You know, that's exactly what Dana said when we came here for the first time?" Milo chuckled, dodging out of the way of the tigress' halfhearted swing. His face turned serious soon after. "Anyhow. Just a fair warning when we land, Terrany. You're going to get a lot of information thrown out at you in short order. Ursa Station's a pretty close-knit community, so everyone's going to know you before you know them."

Terrany nodded. "I know. That just goes with being the new kid."

"Something else." Dana offered coolly. "Rourke's already scheduled a meeting with us all for later this afternoon. So get cooled off before then."

A scowl had crossed the young McCloud's features at the beginning of Dana's phrase, and had only deepened by the end. "I don't forgive someone who decides they can threaten my life to get a rise out of me."

Milo rolled his eyes and shrugged resignedly, seeing no reason to argue the point. Dana cleared her throat and pointed out the transparisteel of the cockpit. "There it is."

Terrany squinted her eyes and peered out into the shimmering blue dust and gas cloud.

She saw a speck of black kilometers away, and the barest flicker of lights about it.

Unconsciously, her hands came to rest on the seats of Milo and Dana, and she stood between them, watching in awe as the speck became a proud space station.

"It's three miles wide, a half mile high, and a little rickety…but that's Ursa Station." Milo explained, smiling when she didn't say anything back. "Welcome to your new home."

* * *

They'd been cleared for docking minutes before they reached proximity to the hangar bays, and the force shields which separated the pressurized atmosphere within from the cold vacuum of space. Terrany was used to the technology; it had been in use since shortly after the Lylat Wars, but there was something still marginally disturbing about passing through a veil of blue energy and going from void to breathable air in the blink of an eye.

Dana had set her down gently, a motion that seemed practiced to precision, and disengaged the engines. A push of a button opened up the side hatch, and then they had all left the shuttle…glad to be out of it, after the trip.

Terrany couldn't help but look around the bustling hangar bay. Mechanized dollies carried equipment and parts every which way, and technicians barely gave them a glance, too busy with digging around on the insides of various spacecraft.

None of them, the vulpine noticed, were Arwings.

"Ahoy there!"

Her attention was diverted back to the front. An amphibian jogged over to the side of the transport's doors and grinned at the three pilots. He was dressed in blue coveralls with countless oil and hydraulic stains, and seemed cheerful enough. "Welcome back, team!" He warbled happily, stuffing a wrench into his back pocket.

Dana grunted and brushed past him, slapping the frog in the side with her tail as she passed. Milo found himself standing alone with Terrany in uncomfortable silence.

"You'll have to excuse Dana. She's been flying all night, and probably just took off to get some sleep."

The toad waved off his apology. "Totally understandable. And is this the infamous Terrany McCloud we've heard so much about?"

Terrany narrowed her eyes. "Yeah…but who was talking about me?"

"Us, mostly." Milo answered quickly, shooting a warning glance in the engineer's direction. "Terrany, allow me to introduce the brains of this grease pit of a hangar bay: Wyatt Toad. Wyatt, Terrany McCloud."

Paw shook webbed hand, and Terrany grasped onto her curiosity. "Toad…as in Arspace Dynamics?"

"Nailed it on the first try. Not like it was hard." Wyatt expanded his throat pouch proudly, then sucked it back in. "Yeah, I'm the grandson of Slippy Toad, the President at Arspace. And yes, my granddad flew with your granddad."

"I remember." Terrany smiled. "So do you fly as well?"

"Creator, no!" He laughed nervously. "I couldn't fly my way out of a paper bag. I just build the damn things. So what do you think about our little project? I hear you've already flown in it."

"I fought in it." Terrany corrected him grimly. "So you designed the Seraph?"

"Mostly." The amphibian nodded. "A few systems, though, were developed separately."

"Then I don't suppose that you could tell me why the Arwing piloted by my future CO grew two extra pairs of wings and defied every law of physics?"

Wyatt's eyes went wide. "He did _what?_" He uttered incredulously. Milo blanched a bit, and Wyatt coughed, eventually recovering with a shake of his head. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just a little surprised he used it."

"He tried to blow me out of the sky with 'it'. So just what did he do?"

"Well, that's the Seraph's secret weapon he tried out on you, then. It's the next generation of G-Diffusion…maybe the final generation." He rubbed a finger under his chin. "Of course, you'll get to hear all about this later on today You get to meet your very own Seraph."

"Looking forward to it." Terrany replied, a little uneasy at the concept Wyatt had thrown at her.

Milo cleared his throat. "Well, it's been a long flight, and we've got to get Terrany settled in. The General wanted to meet with her as soon as we arrived."

"Right, right. Say no more." Wyatt grinned. "I'd best get to the back of the transport. I'll probably need to give Ulie oxygen, after what that plane's been through."

"He's been pretty edgy, all right." Milo smiled, strolling ahead of Terrany to show her the way. "But he shouldn't be. After all, it's not _his_ plane."

Terrany followed after her new teammate, and Wyatt scratched the top of his head with the wrench from his back pocket.

"So…she doesn't know yet." He mused. He turned for the carrier shuttle and the damaged Arwing it carried, faster than he needed to.

His celerity was prompted by a motivation to be nowhere near the youngest McCloud when she was finally told that her brother was dead.

* * *

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

Terrany stood beside Milo in a spacious office decorated with photographs in picture frames, various commendations, and even scale model replicas of Cornerian fighter craft. Milo saluted, and Terrany almost began to do the same before she caught herself.

The move did not go unnoticed by the tightly drawn General behind the desk. According to the nameplate he kept in front of him, his name was General Arnold Grey. Brigadier General Arnold Gray.

He chewed on the stubby end of an unlit corncob pipe and sized up the young woman. "At ease, Milo. Why didn't you salute, Miss McCloud?"

"To my knowledge, I was kicked out of the Academy. I'm under no military obligations." She countered crisply, arching an eyebrow as she set her hands on her hips. "Or has that changed?"

"If you mean to ask have you been reinstated, the answer is no…officially."

The General took his hat off and shook his head from side to side, letting his ears bounce freely. "I'll let it slide for now. I assume Sergeant Granger's told you why you're here."

"More or less." Terrany replied, turning her head towards the raccoon and mouthing, _sergeant?_ He shrugged sheepishly.

"Guess I should have mentioned that earlier."

"Good. Then I don't have to run you through the recruitment speech. You've flown in the X-1: What did you think of its performance?"

"The double hyper lasers as standard equipment threw me for a bit, and you've made some modifications in the cockpit; all in all, pretty ergonomic. But why the AI?"

The General motioned to a pair of seats up against his west wall. "Pull those up. There's some things you need to know."

Terrany sensed no dark intent in his voice, and so she sat down beside Milo, wondering what he felt like talking about.

The General leaned forward on his elbows and tapped his fingers together. "The Seraphim Project is a small operation that is almost completely funded by the Arspace Dynamics corporation. The military oversight for it is very small; outside of myself, Sergeant Granger, and most of the flight personnel, almost all crewmen aboard this station are civilians."

"Most of them from the Arspace corporation, give or take a handful." Milo added calmly.

"The X-1 is off the books and off-record. Ursa Station gave us the secrecy we needed to give it full testing. You asked about the artificial intelligence earlier: Suffice it to say that there are things that the X-1 cannot do without an AI to share the load."

"Like grow extra wings and bounce around like a ball in a hurricane."

The General frowned. "Yes…like what your commander did when he decided to test you out. Without the onboard AI, the X-1 could not pull that maneuver off. I'm sure you've been asking yourself why you were asked here…"

"I know why." Terrany piped in calmly. "You needed somebody who could fly these things, but you didn't want to attract a lot of attention. So you decided to pick up somebody who'd been lost to obscurity; me."

General Grey shut his eyes. "That helped…but that wasn't the main reason. And you'd best hear this from me. Terrany, your brother was a part of the Seraphim Project. You're here to take his place."

Somewhere in his explanation, Terrany forgot how to breathe. In fact, she forgot about everything except a sudden sharp pain in her chest.

_"…Was?" _She asked hoarsely.

General Grey's eyes were still closed, and he nodded. "During a flight test on the outskirts of the Lylat system, we lost contact with him. His transmission, right before it cut out, said he'd been ambushed by unknown targets. We've been searching for his Arwing ever since then, but…"

"The General hasn't declared him dead." Milo interceded, seeing the panic in her eyes. "We haven't found him. He's just MIA."

Terrany blinked her eyes, wondering why no tears came. "And you don't think that maybe my mother and I would have liked to know my brother was missing?" Her voice was shaky, but both men could read the rage underneath her skin. Her paws were balled into fists, and her extended claws were digging bloody gashes into her palms. "Wouldn't that be more important?!"

"We couldn't. Not now, when the fate of all Lylat hinges on this project." The General barked, perhaps a bit too callously. "The reason you are here instead of rotting in a Katina farm is because your brother said that only one person he knew might be able to do better than he did, and he was talking about you."

He puffed his cheeks in on reflex, as if to draw in the smoke of his pipe. A moment later, remembering it unlit, the General swore and shoved his comfort object into a desk drawer, slamming it shut. "Mourn for your brother on your own time. Rest assured, we all have, so don't try to go high and mighty on us. In the meantime, we've a more immediate threat. Whatever attacked your brother was just the scout. Our deep space scanners have been tracking an entire wave of unknown craft, headed straight for Lylat. As of this morning, Ursa Station's on a wartime footing."

Milo jerked upright. "But sir, I thought that we…"

"Certain events changed our analysis." The General interrupted, cutting off Milo's protests with a tired wave of his hand. "And word's come down from my superiors: Get the Seraphim Project to launch phase in one week."

Milo blanched. "One _week?!_ Sir, that's impossible! Terrany hasn't even been given the full data on the Seraphs, much less had the time to…"

The General shook his head, not enjoying the frustration he caused. "One week. You'll make it happen by then. Failure is no longer an option." He turned to address Terrany one last time. "Your brother left some big shoes to fill here, missy. Don't disappoint me."

Terrany was about to open her mouth to speak when the General reached for his hat. "Dismissed." He ended curtly.

Fuming, Terrany stood back up and stormed out of the office. Milo got up as well, but hesitated so he could give the General a wondering gaze. "What was that all about?" He asked.

The General reached back inside his desk and jammed the corncob pipe in his mouth. "You haven't heard yet, but Rourke got jumped by an entire fleet on his reconnaissance mission. Unfamiliar design, unfamiliar origin, and plenty mean. The only reason he escaped was that he was able to drop a G-Bomb to clear his way for an FTL burst." He shook his head gravely. "Skip didn't have a munitions payload when he was ambushed two weeks ago."

Milo managed to look irate without being indignant. "And you couldn't think of a better way to tell her the news? You came off callous and insensitive, which I know you're not."

"We don't have the luxury for my usual coddling and grieving, Sergeant." General Grey remarked wearily. "As much as I'd like to give her the time to grieve, I can't. And I've looked at her file. If pissing her off will make her focus on the job at hand, then I'll be the toughest screw who ever turned in her direction."

The General stood up and turned about to look at a model of the SFX Arwing from nearly eight decades prior. "Get her to her room. Then get her down to the hangar. Skip believed she might be able to do what nobody else could. It's time we found out."

* * *

The chime on his door was going off. Incessantly.

Rourke O' Donnell reached for a blaster at his waist that wasn't there, then remembered where he was and closed his eyes again. Maybe if he didn't answer, the moron on the other side would get the effing hint and leave him be.

The door stopped chiming, in what could either be half a minute or three. That was the thing he liked most about sleep; you had no real awareness of the passage of time. Relieved that the noise had stopped, he made the mistake of allowing himself to relax.

It made the intruding chirp of his communicator all the louder. Rourke bared his teeth and let out a frustrated scream, slamming his fist hard into the wall above his bed.

The chirp went off again; someone had texted him.

Rourke hated texts.

"Sleep? No, we don't need sleep here." He mumbled lowly, stretching his fingers out until they wrapped around the offending electronic device. He forced his blurry eyes to focus on the screen.

_**From: Dana**_

_OPEN UR DOOR_

Rourke ground his teeth into the inside of his mouth, drawing blood. He settled the comm against his chest and began pushing in the buttons as fast as his thumbs could manage.

_**To: Dana**_

_Piss off and learn how to spell. _

He sent it with a definitive click and shut the device off, just to make sure she'd get the hint. Naturally, she didn't.

The door opened, jimmied to its unlocked position by the technological wizardry of his flight's only female…well, formerly only female…member.

"You've got two seconds to shut the door and leave or I smother you with my pillow." Rourke mumbled, cross but too tired to make the threat carry any weight.

Dana flounced in and let the door shut behind her, throwing the room back into blissful darkness. "Rise and shine, sir. The day's half gone."

Rourke kept his eyes shut. Maybe she was all some sick dream. That'd be hilarious, if he couldn't even find peace in sleep. Par for the course. "Your point? Get some sack time, Tiger. You need it just as much as I do."

"I put in a few hours. I'll live."

Her weight settled onto the springs of his mattress, and Rourke felt that fuzzy part of his mind start to drift completely away. "I came here to look at you."

"You've looked. Now get out. Meeting's not for…" He opened one tired eye again and looked to his alarm clock. The calculations took longer than they should have. "Four hours, right?"

"Three, sir."

Rourke exhaled a lungful of air out of his throat, making a sound between a growl and a groan. "Fine. Then I'll see you in three hours."

"The infirmary said you didn't report for treatment on that injury of yours. I'm just following up on it."

Rourke didn't move. Dana's voice turned stern. "I could have the General order you to the Infirmary, if you'd prefer that." He finally acceded to roll over on his back to look up at her.

Rourke shoved his arm up towards her, allowing her to see the thick bandage about his wrist. "Happy?" He asked darkly.

Dana's fingers were light as they traced across the injury. She undid the edge of the covering and peered underneath it with the aid of a penlight. "Second degree burns." She noted. "And you didn't have this looked at?"

Rourke tensed every muscle in his body as he yawned, then relaxed. "Some of us don't run home crying every time that we scrape a knee."

Dana rolled her eyes. "You're not invincible, sir."

"Don't call me that."

"Why shouldn't I?" Dana shot back. "You were given command of this flight after…after…"

She turned her head away, unable to finish the sentence. Rourke knew full well why she couldn't.

He turned her head back around to his with his other hand and nodded. "If I don't take the job, then it means that I haven't given up on Skip coming back."

"But you did take the job."

"You know what I mean, Day. Sheeze." The wolf pulled his hand back and rubbed at his eyes. "You do realize I'm not wearing a shirt, right?"

For the first time all visit, Dana allowed a smile to come to her face. "Oh, I'm well aware. I'm actually enjoying it right now, so don't spoil the moment."

"So you're playing nurse with me then, huh?" He teased her.

She slapped his chest lightly, still smiling. "Don't get any ideas, O'Donnell. You can look…but only one man can touch."

Rourke harrumphed instead of laughing and let his head roll to the side, focusing on the remains of the fuzz in his brain instead of the rather pleasant sensation of her fingers on his arm. "Yeah." He decided to change the subject. "So how's psycho girl? Is she settled in?"

"I got off the horn with Milo just before I arrived here." Dana replied, adding a dab more moisturizing antibiotic to the scar and sealing the bandage. "She was going to go meet KIT. What I don't see is how she'll do any better than Skip."

"Who knows?" Rourke shrugged, taking his arm back and folding them behind his head, flexing his pectorals for her straying eyes. "Maybe they're hoping she's just crazy enough to be able to understand it."

* * *

_Hangar Bay 1_

"Thanks, Milo. I'll take her from here." Wyatt finished with his usual smile. The raccoon gave Terrany one last nod and another reassuring smile, then turned and walked away. The green-skinned amphibian nodded to her and rested his clipboard against his side. "Well, let's get going. It's time you met your own Arwing." Terrany's face remained stern as they started walking.

Wyatt seemed amiable enough, but Terrany's mood had kept him from getting too close.

"So…how did the meeting with the General go?"

"Oh, fine." Terrany remarked acerbically. "I just found out my brother's probably dead, though. That seemed to put a damper on things."

Wyatt exhaled. "Well…at least you know now. It's better you found out from him, instead of having it slip out later."

"How is it better, Wyatt?"

"Well, for one, I can give you the straight truth without worrying you'll tear my head off." The frog joked. He turned his head forward and kept walking. "Now, then. While I'm taking you to your Seraph, any questions?"

Terrany and Wyatt maneuvered around a Dynamo fighter whose entire nose assembly was being refitted. The Hangar Bay, it seemed, was more of a mechanic's workshop than anything. She put a hand on her head as she ducked under a girder being transported across the space. "That trick with the extra wings…what is it?"

"Remember what I said earlier about the next generation? That was it, Miss McCloud. G-Diffusion gives an Arwing exceptional maneuverability. What the Seraph has is the ability to ignore gravity and inertia completely. We call the system that powers that transcendence the _G-Negator._"

Terrany whistled. "If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. But how can you fly like that? Rourke was bouncing around so fast, I couldn't follow him, much less move at those speeds."

"That's where the Seraph's other major modification comes in." Wyatt went on. "You met the onboard AI, correct?" Terrany nodded. "We call them ODAI: Onboard Diagnostic Artificial Intelligence. A descendant of past ship's navigational programs, they're hardwired into the Seraphs. As far as the schematics show, Odai's there simply to maintain the Arwing's operations and occasionally offer advice. What we kept hidden from the blueprints was that the AIs were designed to interlink and synchronize with the pilots."

Terrany stopped and turned him around. "Wait…is that even possible?"

Wyatt tapped on the top of his head. "When you put on Milo's helmet, you noticed the metal bumps that went along your scalp, right?" Terrany did remember that. She'd thought it odd at the time, but now…

"Those are like some kind of…input device?"

"No, not an input. It's like…well…" Wyatt wiggled his free hand off to the side of his head, searching for the words. "It's more like a standard OS setup with multiple processors. One must always be the master drive, the controller, and the others are the 'slave' units, right? Same thing. In this case, the pilot becomes the master CPU, and Odai and the Arwing becomes an extended brain, as it were. Outside stimulus is cut off, and then you start thinking as fast as your machine does…lightning fast, with near instantaneous response time. That's how Rourke can control the Negator Drive so successfully."

Terrany gave her head another shake. "Seems like science fiction."

"One hundred and fifty years ago, lightspeed was considered a fantasy." Wyatt remarked glibly. "The only thing that separates dreams from reality is how much effort one's willing to put into making it real."

They came to an open stretch of metal plating, and Wyatt stopped walking. "We're here."

Terrany glanced around. "Really? Does it turn invisible as well?"

Wyatt snickered. "Ye of little faith." He dug into his pocket for a moment, and took another look at her feet. "Back up about…oh, fifty centimeters, would you?"

Terrany did so, but wondered what he was driving at. He pulled a compact device with a single button out of his pocket which very much resembled a garage door opener.

He pressed it, and the floor where Terrany had been standing moments before began to pull away, retracting on rails. Just as the hatch finished opening, she heard the sound of a hydraulic lift pushing something up from the darkness below.

She remembered something her father had said once when she and Carl had been children. Perhaps it was because of the loss of her brother that she'd thought of it, or perhaps it just seemed right to think of it then. No matter what, her father's comforting words, long torn from her mind, finally rang true.

_No matter how many aircraft you fly, you'll always love one the most. You'll know which one it is the moment you see it, too. You'll look at it and realize, "This was made for me."_

The Seraph Arwing that rose from the storage space below was physically the same as the others that Dana, Milo, and even the mysterious Rourke flew.

She still knew it was different, because it was hers.

It easily dwarfed them as the lift finished loading it into place, and Terrany realized with her sharp hearing that all the other noises about the bay were subdued, save for turning heads.

Wyatt put the remote away and crossed his arms. "This…was the prototype for the X-1 series. Everything in its physical design was used in the others, but one component received a radical change."

Terrany couldn't break her eyes from the sleek silver and blue craft. "What was that?"

Wyatt cleared his throat. "The AI."

"What, the other ODAIs are more advanced?"

Wyatt scratched the underside of his chin hesitantly. "Actually…less."

The Seraph Arwing sat powered down and motionless, and Terrany took a step closer to it. "What do you mean?" She asked, curious but too drawn in to be worried. "All the ODAI are the same, right?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Every pilot's ODAI in your flight is a little bit different. They've evolved alongside their pilot. But they share one thing in common; they were programmed to support the ship's systems more than the pilot. The AI in this thing was made for more."

Wyatt walked over to one of the Seraph's support struts and leaned against it; an easy enough feat, given the one and a half foot meter clearance underneath the fuselage. "The one in the prototype was called KIT: Katina Interpersonal Technoform."

Terrany rolled her eyes at the mechanic and reached for the hatch on the side which would release the collapsible stairs. "Your idea of a name?"

"No. It came to us that way. I'm great with machines, but the finer points of heuristic programming were never my strong suit. A smaller subsidiary R&D lab from Katina said they'd been able to duplicate the personality and combat expertise of one of the Starfox Team's members from the Lylat Wars. We were skeptical, at first, but the need was there: The G-Negator wouldn't be feasibly possible without the edge that an interlinked AI offered."

Terrany froze. "Duplicate…which one?"

Wyatt laughed. "Relax. It's an artificial construct. But we asked ourselves that. We figured they called it KIT for a reason…and given its personality traits, you can assume that it's a rendition of your grandfather in there."

Terrany grinned; flying with Odai had been a chore, but the chance to step into the cockpit and have the aid of a digital duplicate of her ancestor? And the one she took after? Oh, it was shaping up to be quite enjoyable.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's power it up!"

"Hold on there, sport." Wyatt chortled good-naturedly. "We're not authorized to launch for training missions until tomorrow…_after_ your full technical briefing. All I'm doing is introducing you to your partner in crime." He waved a hand up to the cockpit and whistled. "Seraph Prototype, Command Code Zero-Two: Initiate main processors and prepare for New Pilot Entry. Voice Authorization Toad-Zeta."

The auditory sensors of the craft picked up the calm and crisp words and responded smoothly, extending the titanium ladder the rest of the way down and opening the shielded canopy over the cockpit.

Terrany shimmied up the ladder like an excited pup, and slid inside the cockpit.

The Diagnostic panel on her lower right lit up, and displayed its prompt.

**Please Enter Pilot's Name.**

"Terrany A. McCloud." She spoke confidently.

**Error. Please use manual entry.**

Slightly deflated, Terrany dropped her hand down to the keypad and typed out her name.

**Name accepted. Please look straight ahead and maintain proper posture.**

Terrany blinked a few times as she followed the advice, and was rewarded with an illuminated answer, and the blindness that came with it, when an internal camera flashed a snapshot of her for its digital registry.

**Photo and name on record. Please hold. Final initialization commencing.**

Terrany relaxed in her seat, and Wyatt whistled up to her. "How's it going?"

She leaned over the side of the cockpit's edge and looked down. "It's just finishing the registration."

_**"Correction: Finished." **_Came a new and rather distinctively brusque voice. _**"So…Terrany McCloud. It's nice to meet you. Too bad about your brother, though."**_

There was no sympathy in the voice, but there was more than a hint of sarcasm.

It felt like a slap in the face. "Excuse me?!" Terrany stammered, when her voice came back to her.

_**"I heard he died. No skin off my nose." **_

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Terrany demanded angrily.

KIT seemed to laugh a little; a disturbing nosie, compared to how calm and perfunctory the ODAI in Milo's Arwing had been. _**"Oh, that's the beautiful thing: Nothing. I am as I am. Well, I think so, anyhow…though it's been eight months since I've seen the light of day, so who knows? I might have changed."**_

Terrany wanted nothing more than to punch him, but of course, Kit wasn't a real person. He was just a program.

An asinine, possibly deranged program.

She leaned over the side of the Arwing again and whistled at Wyatt. "Are you sure this thing's safe? It sounds like it's unstable!"

_**"You know, it's impolite to talk about people when you're sitting in them."**_

Wyatt examined the readouts on his datapadd and shook his head. "Everything checks out. Kit's running normally."

"Normal for who?" Terrany muttered, sinking back into the pilot's seat.

_**"So. They tell me that you fly. Just how good are you?"**_

"I was near the top of my class at the Academy in flight performance before they booted me out."

_**"In other words, not good enough." **_Kit remarked glibly.

"I'm a McCloud. I'm plenty good enough." Terrany growled at the computer.

KIT snorted. _**"Yeah. So was your brother. But he couldn't hack it."**_

Terrany pursed her lips, and traced a finger along the control yoke. "He…flew you?"

_**"Not well."**_ KIT seemed morose to consider it. _**"So what makes you think you can do any better?"**_

"You're forgetting that this is my plane." Terrany shot back.

_**"Nope. It's mine. I'm the one hardwired into it, so I'm pretty sure I have squatter's rights."**_

Terrany let out a groan and ran a hand through her hair. "You're impossible."

_**"I'm the best."**_ KIT quipped. _**"So. How's the others? Dana, Milo, Rourke?"**_

"I wouldn't know. I just met them today."

_**"Hmmph." **_KIT exhaled. _**"None too happy, I'd wager…except for Rourke, maybe."**_

Out of everything KIT had said, nothing had been as curiously startling as that one last nugget. Terrany sat up a little straighter and looked down at the display panel. "…What makes you say that?"

_**"Rourke O' Donnell was second in command of the flight. Without Skip in the way, he'd naturally be put in charge. Just like he always wanted."**_

Terrany's vision went red. "Second in comm…You said his last name was…"

_**"O'Donnell. Of the Star Wolf O'Donnells? I figured you've heard of 'em."**_

When Terrany didn't say anything, and KIT registered that the aircraft was suddenly almost fifty kilograms lighter, the AI realized that she had indeed heard of them.

Wyatt bared jumped out of the way with a surprised croak before Terrany made the landing from the cockpit high above. She didn't waste a single moment on explanations, and just started running.

Wyatt's watch went off, and he remembered that he was supposed to tell her she had to start up towards her meeting with Rourke and the team.

As he turned to look up towards the Seraph with KIT in it, Wyatt realized she was already well on her way.

The look on her face indicated it wouldn't be a productive meeting.

* * *

Rourke was just finishing his warmups with Dana and Milo when Terrany came storming in. The wolf cinched his cloth belt a little tighter around his loose-fitting leggings and nodded at her. "Terrany McCloud, I presume?"

Terrany took in the sight of him.

Gray fur. Hard eyes. An egocentric smile. Dominant posture. And dressed in, of all things, an outfit which made him look like he'd stepped out of a martial arts flick.

"Rourke…O'Donnell." She answered in turn.

Rourke narrowed his eyes. She was tense. Most likely angry. That could either be a benefit to the exercise or a hindrance.

She stared at him for a few moments more before looking about to address her surroundings. "Odd place for a meeting." The fox ventured grimly. The padded floor and walls were definitely different from the rest of the metallic environment of the space station.

"There's a concept I follow. You can get to know a person through how they fight." Rourke elaborated. "We meet in here and practice CQC—Close Quarters Combat—to understand one another, and to build team unity."

"Well, I don't think I need to fight you to understand you, pirate."

Milo drew a hand over his face, stifling a disapproving groan. Rourke's lip twitched for a moment, but he kept his cool.

"Oh? Well, try me anyhow. I've seen what you're like in the air. Now I want to know how you fight when you don't have a deflector shield and two inches of poly-duranium armor around you."

Normally, Dana and Milo would begin sparring, but the two found that it was far more interesting to watch the conflict unfold between Rourke and Terrany. Or perhaps, they could argue, they were merely standing by to break the two up if it got out of hand.

The way it was looking, there was no question it would.

Terrany threw off her flight jacket and stripped down to her athletic T-Shirt, keeping her pants and boots in place. Rourke sized her up, keenly aware of his less protective tunic and leggings, and more so of his bare feet.

"I usually let my opponent decide the rules. So what'll it be? Time limit? First blood?"

Terrany began to stretch out her arms and legs, and affixed him with the strongest glare she could. "How about I keep pounding on you until you beg me to stop?"

"Terrany, be serious!" Milo protested, ever the ignored voice of reason. "He's your commander!"

"And probably as giddy as Hell that all he had to do to get there was wait for my brother to die." Terrany snapped.

Rourke's foreclaws came out for a second before he retracted them, and his sense of reason and sympathy sublimated away. "Until I'm begging you to stop?" He mused quietly. "Well, all right. It was your choice."

Terrany lowered herself into a ready posture and steeled her arms. She hadn't gone through 3 years of self-defense classes and 2 years of Academy combat training to plant flowers. By the time she was finished with Rourke, he'd be the one who was pushing up daisies.

Rourke, in spite of the casual readiness she displayed, just stood there with his legs spread slightly apart and his hands palms open and down, by his waist. "First move goes to you, kid."

She charged at him like a train on the rampage.

* * *

Her blows came fast, showing experience and confidence behind every punch, elbow slam, and high kick she mustered. Speed was something that the McClouds had always carried, and she briefly entertained the notion of somehow disappearing and reappearing on the other side of Rourke, having dashed through him with a punch.

Of course, that was mere fantasy. The truth, for however enjoyable she might have found the idea of a vanishing dash, ended up being more satisfying.

Until she realized he was keeping up.

Rourke put his muscles to their full potential, turning aside her fierce strikes with iron determination. "Good form," Rourke exclaimed between his blocks, "But a little too rehearsed. I didn't figure you took the Academy basics to heart like that!"

Terrany slowed the attack for a moment, then redoubled her efforts. "Use what's useful!" She countered, bringing her foot up and across to strike at him.

Rourke easily weaved underneath the blow and struck her leg with a backhand, spinning her off balance and into a jumping roundhouse kick she wasn't ready for. He caught her and threw her flat on her back with only a small grunt for her trouble.

"There's a time and place for methodical Katras." He began, stooping down beside her so his knees were even with his chest. "But you can't use them exclusively. You have to find variation, style, or else…you'll end up lying on the ground, wondering what happened."

Ordinarily, anyone would take those calm words of wisdom at face value and realize that Rourke O'Donnell was attempting to teach them something.

Not Terrany McCloud. Letting out a frustrated scream, she lashed out with a devastating right cross. Rourke leaned backwards fast enough to make his knees crack, and flung himself into a backflip.

Both Terrany and Rourke came up on their feet, and the leader of the squadron resumed his easygoing posture. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be?" He seemed disappointed. "Did you ever think of talking instead of fighting?"

"I've got nothing to say to you!" Terrany howled back, and finally connected with a hook that sent his jawbone screaming out of place.

Rourke reeled back a few steps and wiggled his musculature until he felt his jaw snap back into alignment. It still hurt to move, so he kept his mouth open just enough to murmur things. "Apparently, you do. What's your beef, McCloud?"

"Were you happy when it happened?!" She demanded, raking her claws down over his arm as he overextended after another block. Rourke's face tightened, but otherwise showed no outward signs of rage. "Oh, maybe you just like seeing McClouds _suffer!_ It must run in the family, huh?"

Rourke slammed his palm into her chest with a straight blow, knocking her backwards and conveniently blowing the wind out of her lungs. As her eyes misted up in pain and she coughed for breath, Rourke took a moment to rub at his sore face…ignoring the long scars on his arm that were now dripping blood on the mattress-covered floor.

"Quite a mouth you've got." He mused. "I think I've got a right to be peeved, though. You don't know who to blame for Skip. I'm just a target of convenience."

Terrany panted, somehow managing to rise back up to a posture that was only partially slouched. "…Bastard…"

Rourke watched her for a few moments more, seeing something in how she held herself that betrayed her rage. "Be honest with yourself, kid. You're upset about your brother Carl, but you're not _angry_ about it. So tell me, what's knotting your fur worse; that I attacked you, that I beat you, or that I'm an O'Donnell?"

"If I said…all…I'd pound you just the same." She gulped in a few more painful breaths of air and resumed her stance. "But there's no way in Hell that I'm going to fly…under someone who attacks his teammates for kicks!"

Weakened, her last assault didn't stand a chance of working. She charged anyways, a testament to the blind rage that simmered inside of her.

Rourke ignored the singing pain in his jaw once more, and braced himself. When she came close enough with her charging punch, he sidestepped the blow, pulled her forward, then picked her up into the air and slammed her flat on her back.

Terrany discovered a whole new world of pain in that instant, and before she could react, his hand found its way to her neck, pinching down on something hard enough to make her want to scream. Of course, she had no air to scream…

And worse, she realized, she suddenly couldn't move anything below her chin.

Rourke leaned his head down beside her ear, and his hot breath tickled her fur. "Don't like my methods? Tough. Want to get angry about things? Fine. But get one thing straight. Skip's gone, and you're still here. Like it or not, you're on this team. And I'm the one who gives the orders."

She wheezed for a moment more, and Rourke decided to add insult to injury. "Oh…This CQC training we do? It wasn't my idea to begin with. It was Skip's." Her eyes widened, and Terrany began to open her lips to speak.

Not waiting for a response, Rourke squeezed the nerve harder, and Terrany blacked out.

Rourke pulled himself back up to his feet and mustered a stern glare for his two other wingmen. "Meeting over." He announced coolly. His eyes flickered to Dana's stunned, slightly horrified eyes. "Take miss wild thing back to her room. She'll need to sleep it off."

Milo folded his arms. "You know, Rourke, I haven't seen you use that trick in forever. I'm curious; where'd you learn it?"

"From watching old TV shows."

"Seriously?"

"No. I just decided if you were going to keep asking, I'd give you an answer. Didn't have to be the right one."

Dana grunted as she hefted Terrany up over her shoulder, and Milo looked over. "Heavy, is she?"

"Compared to dragging you back to barracks after a night of carousing, Granger, she's a feather." Dana threw Rourke one last concerned stare. "You're going to get yourself checked over in the Infirmary this time, right?"

"If it means I'll be able to sleep tonight without being bothered, yes." Rourke admitted wearily. Dana smiled sympathetically, then tugged Terrany off and out of the rec room.

Rourke walked over for the towel rack, limping along as the fight's drain finally caught up with him. "All right, Granger. You're the soul of this outfit. Go ahead and tell me that there was a better way to do that."

Milo considered the entire day for a while, then shook his head. "No. And I wasn't thinking about that, to begin with."

"Well, you were thinking about something. You had that glazed look in your fidgety eyes."

The ring-tailed raccoon paused for a moment, then smirked. "I was remembering how Skip did almost the same thing to you when you first joined up."

Rourke pulled the towel off of his sweat-matted headfur, and looked back at Milo with a dry smile. "Yeah…I suppose he did." The smile vanished almost as fast as it had come; It seemed to the raccoon that O'Donnells had a tradition about never smiling.

"One week." He scrubbed at his arms furiously, a futile effort given how mottled with blood his reddening gray fur was.

Milo nodded. Rourke pursed his lips and exhaled, and the weight of their situation settled on his shoulders once more. "I need to get drunk."

"Shaker's?" Milo requested eagerly, naming the station's only establishment of ill repute.

Rourke nodded and flung the bloody towel into the laundry hamper in the corner. "Shaker's. You're buying."

"Well, how generous of me." Milo teased his CO, following after him as they stepped outside and into the station's corridors. "Maybe next time I can hold Terrany down while you beat the piss out of her."

"Watch it, Granger." Rourke growled warningly.

The raccoon managed a grim, understanding chuckle. "Aye aye, sir."


	6. Unwelcome

STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER SIX: UNWELCOME

**(From The Engineering Notes of Wyatt Toad)**

**The Arwing-** **A high performance aerospace fighter/interceptor produced by Arspace Dynamics, the Arwing is easily recognized by its sleek silver and white fuselage and wings, and the blue G-Diffuser units connecting them. The Model 1, or SFX Arwing, boasted a top atmospheric speed of just above Mach 4. Later Arwing models increased the output and number of G-Diffuser units, allowing the Model C, as used during the Aparoid Wars, to momentarily hover at standstill. The latest incarnation, the X-1 "Seraph", is said to have even greater potential.**

**Throughout its 75 year service, the Arwing has remained among the elite aircraft in both air and space. **

_**(Wyatt's Personal Margin Scribblings)**_

"_**The old flight vids don't lie: The SFX was a crotch rocket, an absolute screamin' demon! But by the time they got to the model C and up to the K, almost all of that speed advantage had been sold off for other attributes. When we start building the X-1, I swear that thing's going to reach Mach Six, OR ELSE! This thing's gonna be built for SPEED!!"**_

* * *

_65 Corneria Units (9 Billion, 765 million kilometers) Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

_Three Days Later_

They came from the darkness, a grand armada of flickering lights among the void dotted only by far distant stars. On occasion, a stray comet would streak within range, and just as quickly as it appeared, was shot apart by the turbolasers along the front of the capital ships.

They had traveled for nearly two months to cover the insurmountable distance between their home and this place. Not a soul among them would have done so of their own choice or volition; they were not a spacefaring people.

What they were was the farthest thing from explorers. They did not come for riches, or to conquer and subjugate.

Aboard the grandest ship of the thousand or so capital ships, frigates, and carriers that had come, the commander of the fleet stared out of the window to the nearest star in sight. Lylat, visible as a glowing blue point twice as large as any other in interstellar space, tempted and beckoned.

They were warriors, and they had come to destroy. As it had been commanded, so they obeyed. They would be the first wave, the shock force. A second fleet was at their heels and still streaking through the cosmos at breakneck speed.

We are ready for the jump, sir.

The fleet commander turned his burning eyes from the hated orb of Lylat and gave the order. In a flash of light and the barest pinprick of an explosion in their wake, the massed force vanished and shot off ever closer towards Lylat.

And this time, unlike other invasions that had come to Lylat…

Nobody had any idea just who they were.

* * *

_Sector X_

Sector X remained a nebulous cloud of luminescent gas and particulate dust. It was listed as a hazardous region by the Cornerian Space Agency, and thus remained far from the usual shipping lanes. Some astrophysicists had postulated that there might have been untold riches of mineral deposits in the nebula, but the scattering effect that the dust had on radar always proved to be too dangerous.

Those same conditions were what made the sector perfect for a combat simulation course…and for the four Arwings that were flying over it.

A bank of antiaircraft turrets slid out from the walls, firing as soon as their breeches cleared their obstructive holes. There was a pause for a moment, and then a massive sphere of green laser energy rocketed down on top of them and exploded, ripping them apart.

Rourke toggled the intercom switch on his helmet. "All right, kids. Time to light it up!"

Flying at the high rear position of their foursome, Dana Tiger toggled her own squawk button. "This course is set to a raiding simulation, Terrany; keep the wings locked in interceptor mode and don't stop until you reach the end."

With Rourke in front and down low, Terrany occupied the middle left slot of their sloped diamond formation. "Got it." She glanced down at her radar and noticed several new blips. "I think we just got noticed. I'm seeing bogeys closing in fast."

"Copy that." Rourke responded, calm as ever. "Dana, Milo, you're on cleanup."

"Roger, chief." Dana and Milo pulled their Arwings up for the skies, and the inbound fighters.

"Terrany, you're with me." Rourke added calmly.

"All right, I'm with you."

_**"You mean, **__we're __**with him." **_KIT interjected, after she released the talk toggle. She wrinkled her nose and ignored him.

"Field lesson, McCloud." Rourke O' Donnell announced, strafing a line of mounted plasma mortars with several quick bursts of blue laserfire. "G-Bombs. Can you use 'em outside of Merge Mode?"

Terrany lined up her nose and blasted away a tower turret taking aim at him. "You can, but they're just like Smart Bombs then. Although, Wyatt said he's been working on a way to charge the G-Bomb's capacitors regardless." She finished the sentence by barrel rolling to deflect a barrage from the next set of turrets that Rourke had missed. She dove down afterwards and released the trigger, blanketing them with an explosion of green light. "You missed that one."

"Don't get cocky." Rourke criticized her. "You've got enemies on your six!"

The Arwing shuddered from the impact. _**"Jeez, McCloud, you've gotta start watching your surroundings more! Stop your tunnel vision!"**_

Terrany threw the Seraph into a loop and came around behind the set, blasting them apart with a wild spray of laserfire. "You know, I'm beginning to miss having Odai around instead of you?" She snapped to KIT. "At least he knew when to shut up!"

It had been a long time since her humbling sparring match against Rourke, and while she had taken the bruises of it and accepted Rourke's command, it had nonetheless put a sour mood over everything.

No, that wasn't quite true. It wasn't Rourke's fault. Her brother was dead. There was an invasion fleet of unknown strength and power flying straight for Lylat. And they were halfway through the week that the iron-fisted General had given them to get Terrany up to speed. Everything contributed, even KIT, who was so sure of himself that he insulted her every chance he got.

Another blast of red laserfire slashed across her Arwing's nose, and the shields shuddered from the impacts. Terrany swore and dove lower to avoid the rest from the new aerial threat.

_**"Well, you got your wish, kid." **_KIT remarked icily. _**"I shut up and didn't warn you. Was it everything you ever wanted?" **_

"I hate this place." Terrany muttered under her breath, and kicked the boosters to catch up with Rourke.

* * *

Above the simulated ground of the course, Dana and Milo found themselves locked in a dogfight and outnumbered twelve to one. Those odds would give one pause, but as Milo reminded himself after lining up another victim in his gunsights and ripping it apart with a well placed burst, Arwings had the habit of defying the odds.

The fact he was flying it helped too.

"Milo, go to Private Channel Theta."

"Roger." Milo cleared his throat. "Odai?"

_"Active, sir. What is your request?"_

"Switch our comm frequency to Channel Theta."

_"Acknowledged. Channel switched."_

"You're a marvel some days, you know that?" Milo smiled, locking onto a set of three fighters and shooting a laserlocked burst after them. "Thanks, Odai."

_"Thank you, sir."_ The calm, near monotone voice replied. Milo reached his right hand up to the side of his helmet and toggled the talk button.

"All right, Dana, what is it?" In spite of the clustered airspace, Milo remained cool and collected.

His wingman paused for a moment before speaking. "Terrany's not doing so well down there."

"You expected any different?" Milo asked. "She's not the same McCloud who flew against you back on Katina."

"Why? What's different about her?"

"She's the only McCloud." Milo pointed out, veering away from the falling debris of the trio he'd roasted seconds before. "It's hard to fly free when you've got that much weight."

* * *

"Inbound assault carrier! Watch your thruster output!" Rourke barked.

A massive green and white ship four times as large as the Arwing came down in front of them, wiggling its side pods tauntingly before opening the doors and spewing out a barrage of missiles.

Rourke was the nearest target, and most of them locked onto his Arwing with a vengeance. "Rolling it!" He snapped, spinning to the side and narrowly avoiding the first explosions. More of them kept coming, and Terrany lined up her crosshairs on the next wave.

"Easy, I've got you covered…"

She saw the inbound red laser blasts in slow motion, but still couldn't move fast enough to prevent the carrier's barrage from riddling her shields. The shield gauge dipped down to 79 percent, and Terrany swore. "Damn it, I've got to break off!"

"_Say what?!" _Rourke exploded over the commlink. "McCloud, where's my covering fire? I'm getting…ungh…torn to pieces here!" His complaint was justified; there were so many explosions going off around him that Terrany had trouble making out the battered and buffeted Arwing underneath. "I need that covering fire!"

"Negative, lieutenant!" Terrany reiterated for her flight leader. More laserfire streaked around her and pounded into her shields, and she spun into a barrel roll to deflect the next salvo. "That thing's got me dead in its sights, I have to disengage!"

_**"That may be the most cowardly thing I think I've ever heard someone say." **_KIT remarked bitterly. _**"The Hell you are, you stick with him and you duke it out with this thing!"**_

Terrany's fur bristled, and she gripped the control stick tighter. "I don't have a choice, flight regulations specify…"

_**"Screw the regs!!" **_KIT exploded, shocking her with more ferocity than she knew an AI could ever possess. _**"You've always got a choice, and you're going to stick it out and finish this!"**_

Rourke finally came out of the miasma of explosive plasma, one wing completely sheared off and the stub singed beyond recognition. "Damnit! Granger, Tiger, I've lost a hyper cannon. We need support _now!_"

Terrany pulled back on the stick and went vertical, pulling out of range of the carrier's guns. "I'm disengaging; maybe I can make another pass at it from above!" The laserfire finally drew away from her, to her relief, but found an easier target with Rourke in her place.

"This is Granger, I've got a bead on the conning tower." Milo's voice came over the radio. Two Arwings shot by Terrany with a small shockwave, jostling her own aircraft as she brought it around. "Dana, cover me!"

The carrier fired a barrage of missiles at Milo and Dana while keeping Rourke pinned down with its front-facing laser turrets. Terrany was turned halfway about for her own dive, and was able to look out and watch the attack.

Dana swung circles about Milo, shooting down one projectile after another with a storm of wild shots, but she couldn't hit them all. The ten or so missiles that made it past her attack exploded around them and jarred the two Arwings. In spite of the storm, Milo somehow realigned himself with the barest nudge, with no sense of panic at all.

"Target's good…" Milo's calm voice came over the comm, smoother and almost dull in comparison to how it had been before. "Taking the shot."

The brilliant light of a Smart Bomb blasted out from the launcher underneath his Arwing and soared down with perfect aim, colliding against the control center of the attack carrier and enveloping the upper quarter of its mass in fire.

"Great shot, Granger!" Dana whooped. Milo himself was silent, though, and soon Terrany realized why he wasn't basking in the glow.

When the fireball evaporated away, the carrier remained defiantly flying, a little singed around the edges, but otherwise intact.

"Thought so." Milo finally spoke. "It's got particle shielding. So much for the easy solution." In response, the carrier unloaded another barrage of missiles up towards them, and all three of the Arwings above scattered away from the explosions. "Rourke, what's your status?"

Below them, soaring only fifty feet above the metallic plating that acted as the 'ground' for the simulation course, Rourke struggled to keep his Seraph flying level. That was no easy task when one wing was sheared off. Without the extra stabilization, the G-Diffusers couldn't maintain even pitch. "I'm having some trouble here, but I'm beginning to get a feel for this thing." Rourke grunted, jerking the sluggish craft away from another spread of laserfire. "This thing must be based off of the old historical record, because it looks and fights like the warship that attacked Corneria in the Lylat Wars. Milo, you confirmed it's blast shielded, right?"

"That's affirmative, sir."

Rourke's Arwing rocked from another blast, and he swore. "I'm at thirty-two percent shielding. All right, here's the plan. Resume normal formation and follow me in. When it opens its launch doors to fire its missiles, we should have a slim window of opportunity to land a few hits. Its skin may be ray-shielded, but I doubt the inside of its knuckles are!"

"Roger that, sir."

"Coming about on your six!"

Terrany dove after her two wingmates. "Let's take it to him."

"And McCloud, this time when I ask for covering fire, you had better damn give it to me. Understood?" Rourke's voice was sharp, and Terrany winced.

"…Aye aye."

Rourke's Arwing continued to drag, and after a while, he moved off to the side and up. "Milo, I'm too banged up. You have to lead the shot."

Milo's voice was calm as ice. "All right. Everybody, assume your formation posture. I'm in the lead, Rourke's on my right. Set your lasers to charge and prepare for freefire."

Freefire was the term given to charge shots that were fired off without using the targeting array; they were a potent tool for those who could master the art. As the squadron realigned, each Arwing gained a glowing green ball at its nose.

Then the attack carrier did something none of them were expecting. As the report from Dana would later read, _it fell apart._

The three side units attached to the main body separated. Hidden thrusters began to burn, and the now mobile artillery pods swung around them and surrounded the flight.

Milo broke his usual ethos while targeting and swore. "Evasive maneuvers! Form around Rourke, we've got to protect him!"

The missiles and lasers of the craft fired from all directions, criss-crossing through their flight paths as they all turned their noses skyward and hit their boosters.

Milo's plan had been a sound one; with the crippled Arwing that Rourke was piloting in the middle and their own more healthy fighters about, they would have made it through the explosions and impact lasers with little difficulty.

They would have, except for Terrany, who didn't bother to check the airspeed of her crippled lieutenant and went at her usual pace.

To her surprise, the Arwing's thruster control began to decelerate with her hand sitting on top of it. "What the Hell…" She uttered, trying to force it back up.

The slider didn't show any increase in power, and she realized she was in a tugging match. "Kit, are you doing this?!"

_**"Stay with your team, McCloud!"**_

Terrany roared and slammed the touch-sensitive throttle bar so hard that she cracked it and shorted it out. She looked at it numbly, and KIT, through his own control mechanism, pulled back to try and edge back into formation. Too little, too late.

A lucky missile streaked through the opening that Terrany's gap had created, and crashed with full force into the side of Rourke's hull.

"Systems critical! Everybody, clear away!!" Rourke screamed, and everyone braced for the next finishing attack.

It never came. The segmented attack carrier hovered for a moment more, then pulled itself back together and shut down.

_"…Seraphim Flight, this is Ursa." _Came the voice of General Grey. The old hound sounded none too happy. _"We've recorded the death of Rourke O'Donnell in the simulated run. Your mission was a failure. Set your flight vector for home base. I'll expect the mission report on my desk tonight."_

"Roger, Ursa." Came Milo's voice, calm when Rourke's was surely to be anything but. "We're coming home."

The transmission from their station cut out, and the four pilots were left in the silence of the now disabled course.

"Rourke, can you make it back all right?" Dana asked worriedly. Terrany pulled back into formation, now thoroughly irate and also embarrassed.

"Chalk one up for the resiliency of these things." Rourke answered with a growl. "I should be dead by now."

Terrany bit her lip. That had been her fault there, in the end. "Rourke, I…"

Before she could finish, his communicator shut off from the circuit. Terrany's ears flattened against the sides of her head, and she wagered a guess. "I suppose he didn't want to hear it."

"I don't either, McCloud." Dana snapped over their line. "So do us all a favor and shut up until we get back to base. And then, do me another favor and quit. Stick to dusting crops, that way you can only kill yourself."

Terrany jerked her head around to glower at the test pilot, but Dana's cockpit remained safely hidden from view behind Rourke's crippled Arwing.

She glanced to Milo's ship for some reassuring look. Across the distance between them, though, she watched with further chagrin as the raccoon also shook his head disapprovingly, and looked away.

Somehow, that hurt worse than anything.

* * *

_Ursa Station_

The General and Wyatt Toad were waiting in Hangar Bay 1 when they landed, and neither seemed happy when the scorched and wrecked Seraph that was Rourke's set down on its landing struts.

Wyatt moaned and put his head in his hands. "My precious baby…what did you _do_ to my _baby?!"_

Rourke was at the top of the ladder, and rolled his eyes at the comment. "I didn't do a damned thing. _This_ was the result of somebody who refuses to keep her head in the game." He kept his feet pushed off to the sides and slid down the ladder using his upper arm strength alone to support him. Just before he hit bottom, he braced his legs underneath him and cushioned his fall, then turned about. "General, all of this could have been avoided if you'd modified the ROE for Merge Mode use."

General Grey's corncob pipe looked plenty chewed already that morning, and the commander of the small base gnashed his canines down on it again. "This simulation was meant to test your unit's efficiency working as a team. Merge Mode would not have solved that problem."

Wyatt was halfway up the ladder, and already crying as if somebody had torn his own arm off instead of the aircraft's wing. "By Lylus, we're going to have to do a total refit here. G-Diffuser alignment, interlink systems, accelerator channels…this is going to take us all day!"

"Then you'd better get started, Toad." Rourke snapped. "Because like it or not, we fly tomorrow as well." He turned back to the general and calmed himself with a few deep breaths. "She needs a lot of work if she's going to be on this team, sir."

The General nodded. "I'd agree with that assessment."

"How is she doing with Kit? Any better than Skip did?"

The walkie-talkie on Wyatt's belt squawked. _"Chief, you're not going to believe this, but I'm looking at Terrany McCloud's Arwing right now, and she's busted the throttle bar. We're going to have to replace the whole speed and wing control box!"_

Wyatt let off a surprised ribbit and hit the talk switch. "Are you serious? What the Hell did she do that for?"

_"I'm talking to Kit right now, and…well, the AI says that she cracked it after he tried to slow down and keep in formation."_

Below the radio drama, the General turned his nose back towards Rourke's snout and shook his head. "She needs a lot of work." He finally answered the flight leader.

* * *

"Well, that's it, then." The medical officer on duty pulled his hands away from Terrany's head and reached for his clipboard. "Your post-flight checkout's all done."

"Any problems?" Terrany asked halfheartedly. The simian paused and turned about to affix a gaze over his short and stubby nose.

"Well, none that I could tell from the standard exam. Unless you'd be interested in sticking around for a few hours while I run a series of very painful blood and body tissue tests…?"

Terrany quickly shook her head. "No, no, forget I asked."

"All right then. Get going, McCloud. The General's expecting you."

Maybe it was the strain of the morning and her ongoing problems with the squadron, or maybe it was just general fatigue. Everybody on this base always seemed content to call her by her last name…McCloud.

As if somehow that was the only thing that defined her.

"You can call me Terrany, you know." She ventured, pulling her old flight jacket back on.

"And you can call me Sherman." He wasn't even looking up at her now, just waving her off while writing away. "Now get going. I've got ten other people I need to take a look at before my shift ends, not including your lieutenant. The way I heard it, he took quite a beating out there today."

This time, Terrany didn't give him a response. She stormed out of the door and left the Infirmary for the rest of the cramped space station.

She was storming along so quickly that she brushed by people without even noticing them, and she walked without any general destination in mind. Somehow, she found her way to the elevator and ducked inside. She faced the wall and tucked her head down, pulling her jacket over her head, a throwback to the hiding she used to do as a pup.

The elevator doors stayed open long enough for two other people to wander in, midway through a conversation.

"…Look, all I'm saying is that it's a dangerous precedent." The first fellow remarked, stepping inside the elevator and punching in a button. "What floor?"

"Six." His counterpart mumbled, shuffling through some papers. "You think you could fly any better with that AI? They should have taken her brother's advice when he gave it and took it offline permanently. The thing's nothing but trouble. Nobody can fly with it. Put her in a different Arwing, she'd be fine."

Terrany's ears perked up, and she turned slowly about. The two technicians were faced forward; they hadn't even recognized her, and were now ignoring her. Her first thought was to clear her throat, get them to stop...but then she decided to just listen. Somehow, she suspected, their sentiment would be one shared by everyone else.

"This isn't the Starfox Team." The first one barked. "She's a hot-rodder. I mean, they knew she was. She got kicked out of the Academy for that even, and they still called her in."

"The scuttlebutt I heard said that she was the only person with the specific mental wavelengths _and_ the flight training and skill necessary to handle KIT and pilot the Seraph."

"Then they should have just given up."

"Why?" The second inquired, and Terrany, who knew full well what was coming next, finally could take no more.

She reached a hand in between the two and punched in the button for the next floor; conveniently, her destination. They turned and recognized her, and to their credit, turned ashen gray when they realized she had heard every word.

Terrany moved her eyes between them, daring them to speak. When neither did, she spoke for them. "Because McClouds are cursed." She answered the second fellow's question. "They always end up dying in their aircraft. Right?"

The tension in the elevator hung until the doors opened and Terrany brushed through them. "This is my stop."

She was ten feet down the hall before the second man spoke up again. "I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Oh, shove it, Dave."

* * *

"Absolutely abysmal performance today." General Gray slammed the mission report down on his desk hard enough to make Terrany wince from the vibrations. "You're not flying like a member of the team, and you're not flying with any sense."

"It's hard for me to fly effectively when your onboard computer thinks he can fly that jet better than me!" Terrany snapped back. "What the Hell kind of AI has an ego?"

The General reclined back in his seat and rested his arms across his chest. "That AI was programmed with the mindset and tactics of the Lylat Wars' greatest pilot. If there's a conflict, it's because you're falling short of realistic expectations. The first rule that your AI has when it comes to multiple aircraft operations is teamwork. It expects you to fly and fight as a member of the squadron. We expect no less. And we're running out of time here."

"You gave me a week to figure this out. That's not enough for a jet like this, General."

"It may not be enough, but it's all we've got." General Gray countered, reaching for his unlit corncob pipe. He jammed it between his teeth and bit down on it. "It's all the time that Lylat has. So get it together, McCloud."

Terrany's fur had been bristling all through the meeting, and it reached a crescendo as the commander of Ursa Station added his own bitterness to the mixing pot. "Or what?" She snarled, leaning forward. "I get it together, or what? You kick me off the squadron? Kill me? You know as well as I do that won't fly."

General Gray chewed his pipe a few more times, and watched her face for any sign of a boast. There was none, but he expected raw fire from her. It was good to know, he thought, that she could still deliver, even backed into the corner as she was.

"We send you home. And we impound that old crop dusting plane you were flying in when I sent Granger and Tiger to find you. I'll ground you. Permanently."

Terrany absorbed the threat, and felt the anger inside her burn hotter because of it. "Will that be all, _sir?_" She asked coolly, putting a thin veil of calm over her words.

"Just one more thing. Wyatt and his fellow wrench turners sent up a report; it'll take them a while, but they'll have all the Seraph Arwings up and running in time for tomorrow's training run. I would suggest that you spend your time until then doing some soul-searching."

"Am I looking for one?" Terrany asked, twitching her short ears.

The old hound took the unlit pipe out of his mouth and shook his head. "No. But you're not flying like the cadet that Skip said could beat him."

Terrany's face softened at the mention of her brother's name. "He…Carl said that?"

"Yes, he did." General Gray mused. "But you're not that person now. And until you get it back, you're no good to us…or the Lylat System." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his reclining chair. "Think about it, McCloud. Dismissed."

She came to a shaky attention, saluted him quickly, and then turned and went out the way she came. General Gray waited until her footsteps were long faded from his doorway, and then folded his hands over his chest with a disparaging sigh. "I could have opted for early retirement. I could have gotten a cushy desk job as chief of supplies. Instead, I came here." He mused, shaking his head.

"I'm getting too old for this shit."

* * *

_Hangar Bay 1_

_**"She's absolutely horrendous!"**_ KIT announced indignantly. Wyatt, who was half inside the cockpit and half out, pulled his flashpoint spot-welder away from the thruster hookups and peered at the HUD. In the absence of a face, it was as good a point as any to look at KIT.

"Oh, now you're just saying that." The engineer said, faking a pout. He stared back at his work. "Boy, the two of you did a number on the slider. These things aren't cheap, you know. I don't want to have to replace this again tomorrow afternoon, you hear?"

_**"Tell that to her." **_KIT replied tersely. _**"I wasn't the one who broke it because I got hot under the collar."**_

"You hardly help matters." Wyatt Toad croaked, hitting the connecting solder one more time before snapping the outer housing home. "You're not the most agreeable personality in the world to begin with, KIT."

_**"So you not so subtly told me when you stuck me in storage."**_ The AI replied dourly. _**"But if they can't keep up with me, I don't see how it's my problem."**_

"That's just it." Wyatt answered, reaching inside the thruster housing and bringing up the connector pin. His hands, unlike the more bony ones of some of the other animals aboard, were particularly flexible thanks to their webbing. "Your problem is that you're too good…or, you at least think you are. And before you get indignant, you probably ARE that good. It's just your perception of that makes it hard for the rest of us to work with you."

_**"Terrany thinks she's the hottest thing since sliced bread."**_

"That may be, but she's still your pilot." Wyatt replied placatingly. "And I would have thought that you two would get along swimmingly. Or maybe the reverse is true, and you two are so alike that it's impossible to get along." He connected the new thruster slide bar and wing toggle to the ship's wiring, and started to maneuver the replacement piece into place.

_**"What are you, a psychologist now?" **_KIT snorted.

Wyatt hummed a tune to hide his smile as he clicked the thruster bar into place and reached for a screw from his pocket. "No, I'm just an engineer. Never said I was anything else. Do me a favor, and test out that slider bar for me now that I've got it connected."

_**"Will do, wartface." **_KIT answered. Wyatt paid him little mind until a spark arced to his fingers as he was tightening the second screw into place, causing the amphibian to yelp and rip his hand away.

KIT snickered, and Wyatt stuck his webbed hand into his mouth to ease the sting. "Oh, that's real mature. How'd you like some rhinoceros male on male nose art after this?"

_**"Sheesh, relax. I was just playing with you. I won't do it again."**_

"You'd better not." Wyatt grumbled, going back to work. "I'm pulling overtime to fix your sorry ass. And before you shocked me, what was the reading?"

_**"Thruster slider and wing toggle are both nominal. I guess you really CAN fix her mistakes."**_

"Yeah, right." Wyatt warbled, puffing out his throat pouch. "Days until an unknown alien invasion fleet's marching on our doorstep, and you're playing he said, she said. At this rate, you'll never crack Merge Mode."

_**"That's a grim statement, coming from you." **_

"What, that the Lylat System's doomed?"

_**"No, the other thing." **_KIT snarked. _**"Of course the Lylat System. You don't think I'd miss Lylat?"**_

"You're an AI…How could you miss anything?"

KIT said nothing for about seven seconds, with Wyatt rooting about inside the cockpit making the final adjustments.

_**"You'd be surprised." **_KIT finally replied, and went dormant.

It was quiet in the hangar after that.

* * *

The nice thing about living on a space station like Ursa was that it came fully loaded; stocked with features that one didn't see aboard even larger military transports. Terrany took full advantage of one by hiding in the back of Shaker's, the station's singular bar and tavern, next to a thick, but transparent plasteel window that allowed her to stare out into the mess of stars around them. She quietly nursed her beer and let her mind wander. It wasn't that hard; it seemed like she hadn't been able to hold a cohesive thought in her head since Milo Granger had walked in on her in the barn hangar at Katina. It was par for the course when a voice intruded on her and broke up her last ponderings.

"Hey, you drinking alone or is there room for somebody else?"

Terrany jerked her head up. Milo Granger, the easygoing to hard to read raccoon was smiling and staring down at her. "What?"

"I saw you sitting over here by yourself and I said to myself, _now that's just not right. Somebody as pretty as her sitting all by herself?"_

"If that's a pickup line, you need to work on it some more." Terrany grumbled, moving her legs to rest her feet on the table's second and only remaining chair. He yanked it from under the table before her boots could touch down, and sat his own brew on the table. Terrany threw him a withering glare, but he proved immune as ever and sat with the chair reversed, arms thrown over the back to let him lean forward.

"So what's eating you, kid?"

"The name's Terrany, not kid." Terrany McCloud replied, staring back out the window. "And I'd say everything's eating me these days."

Milo harrumphed and smiled with the same easygoing satisfaction she'd always heard when he wasn't in the cockpit. "Not quite what you expected here, was it?"

"Top secret government project, super-advanced Arwing with unbelievable weapons systems, a snarky AI, my brother's dead, his team's led by the descendant of my family's generational nemesis, and I'm as worthless here as I was back home?" Terrany summarized, taking a long draw from her longneck bottle for effect. "No, I should have expected it. Life just loves us McClouds." She set her bottle down and stared at Milo, unfazed by the alcohol. "What in the Hell is an O'Donnell doing here?"

Milo's smile strained. "Well…there's a long story to that. I'm not sure if it's mine to tell, either. But you can know this; he didn't like taking over after we lost Skip, and he's struggled to do his damndest besides."

"He seems to love the job." Terrany grumbled. "Or maybe he just enjoys beating the crap out of his wingmen."

Milo's eyes narrowed. "You _are_ the firecracker in the family, aren't you? Rourke has a few…ideas about leadership that you're not used to. And no, they're not by the book. But it was your brother who taught him. The close combat training? That was Skip's."

Terrany rubbed at her head; it was still a little sore from the lumps she'd taken. "And flying in over Katina and blasting me to Hell?"

Milo chuckled. "Well, that one was Rourke's, all right. But he helped you to achieve your potential in that flight."

"There's got to be an easier way to do that."

"Easier, maybe. But not as real." Milo offered, taking another swig of his drink. "Make no mistake, Terrany. There _is_ an unknown and hostile alien force headed for the Lylat System. Rourke was already injured when he fought you; wounds received on a scouting mission to observe their movements. I'm sure he did what he did because he needed to be sure you weren't just another punk wet behind the ears rookie fresh out of flight academy. And believe me, after what I've seen…you've got some skills." Milo turned his head and looked out their window. "You're just horrible at flying with others."

Terrany's hand tightened around the bottle, threatening to crack it. "Is that so?" She replied, gritting her teeth.

"You and KIT." Milo added calmly, stilling her rage. "Relax, I wasn't talking about your accident during the air show."

"You're the only person who doesn't." Terrany scoffed, flicking her ears. Her rage did subside, though. "He…Rourke was injured?"

"Panel inside his Seraph blew from overload, he ended up with some nasty second degree burns on his left hand and arm." Milo waited for Terrany to offer some snide remark, but the young vixen gave none. She just stared down at the table, and let her thoughts be absorbed into the mumbling noises of the bar. The raccoon rubbed at the ring under his left eye, and moved on.

"Your brother…we cared a great deal about him. But the biggest mistake you can make is to think that you need to replace him, or somehow live up to his name."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." The raccoon nodded. "You're struggling with KIT. You're struggling with us. It almost…it seems like you're chasing after his ghost. It's not healthy."

Terrany laughed quietly at that, and her snout wrinkled ever so slightly. "If you knew anything about the McClouds, you'd know that nobody could replace Carl."

Milo raised his beer up to his lips, pausing long enough to speak before taking a swig. "Kind of like how nobody could replace you."

Terrany stared down at the table, and Milo sighed, pushing his empty bottle to the center. "Well, I think I've talked your ear off enough for tonight."

"I don't know if I belong here." Terrany replied quickly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind. "Everybody hates me. I can't do a blessed thing right. Even the General ripped my head off. I think…Maybe you'd all be better off without me."

Milo stared at the defeated McCloud, more than a little surprised at how quickly she dismissed herself. "Is that so?" He mused, voice hollow. The raccoon shook his head and rose from his chair. "Well, you had your reasons for coming here. I suppose it's only right you should have a reason to leave."

He turned about and started to walk away, and Terrany looked up in time to see his back.

"Milo."

The raccoon paused, but didn't turn. Terrany bit her lower lip. "Why did you come here? To Ursa, to this project?"

The raccoon cocked his head half about and looked to Terrany out of the corner of one ringed eye. He smiled and swished his patterned tail behind him. "That's easy, kid." The pilot answered, voice as smooth as butter. "Orders." He waved a hand and disappeared from the bar, leaving Terrany to stew on his words.

* * *

"Give her another chance?" Dana Tiger howled, whipping her slender tail into a frenzy. She stormed about in the briefing room, as furious as her heritage allowed her to be. "She's a loose cannon! Last time, it was Rourke that got fried in a _simulation!_ What happens when we're up against something that really means to kill us?"

Milo Granger drew a hand across his face and sighed loudly. "Dana, when Rourke swept in on our fight, she was fighting for her life…and up until he activated Merge Mode, she was holding her own. She can do it."

Dana laughed aloud at the idea. "Right. So she's a good pilot. We knew that. Even Skip always said she was. But she's not one of us, she's not a part of this team."

Milo's whiskers twitched. "You haven't exactly done a lot to make her feel welcome. Look, she's not her brother. All of us understand that. But right now, she's all we've got. This team needs her."

"This team doesn't need her!" Dana hissed at him, eyes flashing dangerously. "It never did!"

Milo sighed again; He was fast growing tired of being the only person who had the capacity for rational thought. Skip had used to be his counterpoint…but now, it was just him against the brusque attitude of Rourke O'Donnell and Dana Tiger. That tended to wear a person down. He stared at Dana, trying to be as perturbed as possible.

"And why do you say that? Because you think it's true…or because you miss Skip being in your bed at night."

Dana blinked out hot tears. "Watch it." She snapped, but the pain in her voice let Milo know he'd hit the mark. "How long have you known?"

"A while." Milo replied calmly, putting his hands in his pockets. "You took his disappearance the hardest of us all, and it was kind of hard to miss the little looks you two shared. I think Rourke knows too."

Dana looked away and wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering how awful her fur would be mussed up from it. "I miss him."

"I know you do." Milo shushed her, setting a hand on her shoulder. "But Terrany misses him too. And she's known Skip a lot longer than you have."

The tigress composed herself and turned back around, eyes hard again. "That doesn't excuse her lousy flying, or her abrasive attitude. She doesn't like us."

"We've not exactly been her biggest fans, either."

"Blast it, why are you defending her?!" Dana demanded angrily. "Are you sweet on her, or is this some kind of charity?"

Milo had known Dana from the beginning; a feisty, nigh bipolar test pilot who happened to be a better flyer than he was. She wasn't one to mince words either, and laid out her suspicions clear as day. In this case, however, Milo thought as he shook his head, she was off target.

"Neither." Milo replied. "But Captain Carl McCloud always said that people deserved a second chance."

Bulls-eye. Dana bowed her head, stinging from the living mantra that had brought them all together. "She's had hers." She argued feebly.

"You've yet to give it to her." Milo snapped. "Damnit, why can't you see how important she is?!"

Dana stepped up into her face, and her fury burned bright. "I want her gone. GONE!"

"Well, you're not the flight leader, Rourke is!" Milo snarled back, baring his sharp, pointed teeth.

Neither of them heard the door to the briefing room open, or Terrany McCloud step through, stunned to find it occupied and the two arguing over her. She lingered at the back, unable to leave, unable to stop them…trapped.

Dana jabbed a finger into Milo's chest. "And it just so happens that Rourke agrees with me. There's more wrong with her than we can fix in the time we have left, and when she bombs out tomorrow, I will guarantee you that Rourke will personally sign her release orders and shove her out the nearest airlock!"

Terrany reached beside her and flipped on the auxiliary lights in the room, brightening it more than before. The two pilots up at the front of the room froze and turned about, finding Terrany watching them with stinging, red eyes.

"Then I guess I'll spare him the trouble." Terrany eked out.

Milo took a hesitant step towards her. "Terrany…"

"No, forget it." Terrany waved him off, letting bitterness take hold. "Nobody wants me around here. My team, my ship, even the rest of the crew on Ursa, you all think the same thing. I'm just going to get myself killed, and I'm probably going to take you all with me. So I'll quit. You can ship me back to Katina, and I'll go back to flying that crop duster." She laughed a bit and rubbed at her eye. "I guess that's all I'm good for. The last McCloud in the Lylat System, as a farmhand." She leveled a gaze at Dana and bit her lip. "Yes, I hate you too. I hate that you got to see my brother, and be a part of his team. You got to fly with him…I never even got to say goodbye."

Terrany turned about and left the briefing room the same way she'd come in, and slammed the door behind her.

Milo stared hard at Dana, who whirled on him and flashed her fangs, more hurt than ever. "What? You going to yell at me now, tell me I ruined everything?"

Milo blinked his ringed black eyes, as calm and unmoved as ever when things grew so tense that he lost all emotional focus. "No." He said quietly, shaking his head. "I'm just going to do what Skip would. Shake his head, and leave."

And just as he promised, Milo did exactly that, leaving Dana to sink to her knees and start crying for Skip all over again.

* * *

_Hangar Bay 2_

It was deathly quiet on the flight deck as she boarded the outgoing transport ship; it had just offloaded another shipment of foodstuffs for Ursa, and was headed back towards Katina to its flight depot. With her flight jacket draped over her shoulders and her small, never unpacked duffel bag hanging beside her, she shuffled up to the front of the plane and collapsed into the left reserve seat for extra passengers. The pilot up front was going over his preflight checklist, and had his back turned, and Terrany cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned and looked back through the cockpit doorway, and Terrany nodded at the lizard. "Got room for one more on the ride home?"

The pilot, Venomian by ancestry, seemed a little surprised. "Who're you?"

"A newly re-resigned pilot that just wants to head back to Katina and forget about all this." Terrany remarked, leaning back in her seat and shutting her eyes. "Is that all right?"

The pilot thought about it. "Well, it doesn't bother me, I suppose. I'm headed for Katina one way or another, one passenger won't wreck it. You promise you're not going AWOL?"

"Kind of hard to when you've been kicked out."

The pilot whistled. "Geez. Well…all right. But I'll warn you, I'm not much of a conversationalist."

_Suits me just fine_, Terrany thought sadly. "That's okay." She told him. "I'll probably sleep the whole way home."

The Venomian pilot smiled and blinked both sets of eyelids. "Well, all right. You go ahead and lean on back. I'll be making myself a cup of coffee after we hit FTL; you want one?"

"Nah." Terrany chuckled, nuzzling into the crook of her arm. "But thanks for offering." She shut her eyes and let herself blank out as the pilot went to work. She didn't even look up as the Venomian shuffled inside the ship's interior, securing tie lines. Because of that, she didn't even look up as Rourke O'Donnell found his way inside the transport and sat down in the seat across the center aisle from her. The transport's pilot reacted first.

"Hey…Rourke, is that you?"

Terrany opened her eyes, just in time to see the leader of Seraph Flight smiling and nodding to the crewman. "Sure is, Corph. How's the wife? She was expecting last time we talked."

The pilot Corph laughed and walked back towards them, holding his flight overalls proudly. "She's fine. Just had the little squirt, actually; I was going to go visit them after I returned home. Got some time off coming up."

Rourke chuckled softly. "Yeah, sounds like a good time. Think you can spare a few minutes?" He glanced to Terrany. "I'd like a few minutes alone with this vixen here."

Corph chuckled. "I understand. Mind if I hit up your cafeteria, then?"

"Knock yourself out. Tell 'em to put it on my tab." Rourke answered, scratching at one gray ear. Corph gave them a polite wave and disappeared out the transport's back door, leaving the fox and the wolf to stare at each other.

"I didn't think I'd ever find you." Rourke started, leaning on his armrest. "You up and disappeared on us pretty quick there after you dropped your resignation. The General nearly pulled a hernia."

"Sorry for the trouble." Terrany McCloud growled, turning away from him. "It's the last you'll have to worry about me, though. I'm leaving."

Rourke sighed between his teeth, long and loud. "Yeah, so I heard. I thought you were better, though." His remark caught her off guard, and she turned to look at him. Rourke's expression was unreadable. "I didn't think you were the kind of girl to just roll over and die at the first sign of trouble."

"O'Donnell, I know for a fact that you don't like me. Hell, given our family history, I'm not that fond of you either."

Rourke scratched at his nose with a well groomed claw. "So you're running away because you're scared of me?"

Terrany's fur bristled. "I am _not_ running away, and I'm _not _scared of you. I just don't see the point of sticking around when you're planning on throwing me out tomorrow anyhow."

The Lieutenant seemed undisturbed. "And who told you that I was going to do that?"

"Well, Milo and Dana were…"

"Aah. Dana." Rourke muttered, interrupting her and looking away as he narrowed his eyes. "That explains a few things."

Terrany blinked. "Pardon?"

Rourke shrugged, and pulled up the collar of his black leather jacket. "Did you know that your brother and Dana were dating?" Terrany's shocked expression answered his question, and Rourke forged on with a matter-of-fact attitude. "We all got hit hard when Skip died. Milo lost the only sane person in the flight, I got to take on the role as flight leader when I didn't think I was ready for it…and Dana lost the man she loved. I think that seeing you around is painful for her. You remind her of what she lost."

"He was my brother first." Terrany mumbled, but her fire had died out. "Does anybody give a damn about that?"

"Yeah, we do." Rourke answered with a yawn. "But of all the dumb things you could have done, going AWOL on us has to top it. The General made me lose about five years off my hearing when he called me about your note. I've been looking for you for a while, just to drag you back. Kicking and screaming, if I need to."

"Why? You hate me."

Rourke harrumphed and crossed his arms. "Did I ever say that?" He waited for her to think of a moment, and when she found none, he rolled his eyes. "So far, you're the one who's blindsided me time and again."

"Oh, and that first stunt you pulled over the Katina desert doesn't count? You were trying to kill me!"

"If I'd thought you were in danger, I would've stopped." Rourke chastised her. "I'm a bit extreme in my methods, but I'm not ruthless."

He leaned back in his seat and folded one leg up over a knee. "Your brother…you know, he used to say that you were better than he was? And you're good, I'll give you that…But I don't know if he was right."

Terrany stared at him. Rourke stared back, unapologetically. "I'd like to find out though." He added, quieter than before. Terrany blinked, and Rourke pushed himself up out of the chair. "Aah. It's your call, McCloud. You can leave, sure. Despite what the General probably browbeat you with, he doesn't want you leaving, but I'm not going to stop you if your heart's set on it. Either way, you'd better decide fast; once Corph gets back with his cup of java, he'll be flying out of here right quick. He's got a kid back home to watch out for."

Terrany grunted noncommittally and looked down at her hands. Rourke hadn't even gone five feet before she looked up. "Lieutenant?"

The wolf paused and turned back around, waiting.

Terrany gripped her armrest, then finally spoke her question. "You're an O'Donnell…mercenaries that sell out to the highest bidder. What did my brother do that made you respect him, work for him and this project?"

"That's easy, McCloud." Rourke O'Donnell announced, brushing a hand through his fuzzy gray mane. "When nobody else did…he respected me. I just returned the favor." He blinked. "Twice." He turned and left the way he came, and Terrany found the quiet time to contemplate that she always wanted.

When Corph returned fifteen minutes later, he found Terrany's seat vacated, and her duffel bag removed. The lizard blinked his eyelids, harrumphed, and ran a hand over his hairless scalp. "I guess she decided to stay."

* * *

_Hangar Bay 1_

KIT stirred to full consciousness, pulling itself free of the diagnostic cycle that served as its nap. _**"Mmmrhuh?"**_ The AI realized that somebody was in the cockpit. _**"Who's…huh? McCloud?"**_

Terrany McCloud nodded her head, staring to the HUD that flickered powerup messages. "Yes, it's me, Kit."

_**"It's late. What are you doing here?"**_

"I've been thinking." Terrany answered, drumming her fingers on her knee. "What happens if I bomb out?"

_**"I guess you pack it up and head home."**_

"No, I meant to you."

_**"Oh…Well, I'm not really sure."**_

Terrany shut her eyes. "I know. I feel like they want me to fail. Hell, they expect you to."

_**"Is this some kind of pep talk?"**_ KIT asked warily.

"No. But I am trying to clear the air here. I was told today that either I straightened up, or I was going to be removed. And that means I have to work with you."

_**"You sound so thrilled."**_ KIT grumbled.

"I'm not saying you'll like me. What I'm saying is that this is my last chance. It's also yours."

_**"…So. My choices are cooperation or deactivation."**_ KIT mulled over the two for a second. _**"Neither is preferable."**_

"You say that you've been programmed with the instincts, tactics, and mindset of the Lylat Wars' greatest pilot. I can accept that." Terrany folded her arms. "But what you need to understand is that I'm one of the best pilots to come out of the Academy in the last decade…maybe even as good as my brother was. In a sense, we're both the best. That's where we're hitting conflict. So if this is going to work, it's going to take some leeway from both sides. I'll listen to your ideas, and you'll listen to mine. And if yours is the better solution, then that's the one we'll do."

_**"No questions asked?"**_ KIT asked suspiciously. _**"You won't try to counteract me and break the controls again?"**_

"I think we've both found out how well that works." Terrany smirked at her diagnostic monitor. "So, do we have a deal?"

_**"I guess we don't really have a choice. Question is, can you keep up?"**_

Terrany chuckled. "Cocky bastard…no, the real question is, are you ready to show them all up?"

_**"And prove them wrong? I've been wanting to do that ever since they all wrote me off and stuffed me in storage." **_KIT paused for a moment, and came back rather soberly, _**"Your brother even said I was defective."**_

Terrany winced, and thought for a long moment about the best way to handle the remark. She shut her eyes, and found the answer in her own past.

"Carl wasn't always right." Terrany told the AI reassuringly. "You understand me?"

_**"…Yeah. I hear you, McCloud. So what now?"**_

"Now? We practice." Terrany replied, settling back into her seat. "Run me some scenarios on the ship's HUD. We'll review 'em. With any luck, we might even start thinking like each other."

_**"This could take hours. Don't you need to sleep?"**_

Terrany calmly gripped the control stick in her right hand, and set her other arm next to the rest of the controls. "There's something else my brother used to say when we trained together. No sense putting off for the future what you can do in the present."

She might have imagined it, but she thought she heard KIT crack a guffaw. _**"All right then. First simulation; four inbounds. Pirate affiliation, Pillager Class. Response?"**_

"Activate jamming and split them apart with a Smart Bomb, then pick a group?"

_**"Close." **_KIT chuckled. _**"Very close. I like the idea about the jamming, though. Hadn't thought of that. Here, let me put it up on the HUD, and I'll run you through it…"**_

* * *

_The Next Morning_

_"Flight, this is Ursa Control. We've modified today's run with a different scenario." _Their radios were clear, with only the smallest bit of crackle from Sector X's disruptive radiation field. _"It's a straight run and gun; blast through the enemy's defensive lines, make it to the end, and confront the controlling capital ship."_

The four Arwings of Seraph Flight stayed in formation; Rourke high and up front, Milo on the left, Dana on the right, and Terrany riding low and behind. Everyone was quiet, as one question lingered on in their minds that none dared ask. **Is Terrany going to screw up again?**

_"We've got our Godsight pods operational about the perimeter to keep tabs on you. Merge Mode is outlawed for the exercise. You are cleared to begin whenever ready. The clock will start as soon as you enter the course. Good luck. Ursa Control out."_

Rourke double tapped his comm toggle to confirm before speaking to his team. "Well, I guess that's our cue. I'm a little surprised they put us back in this mess."

"Well, these ruins are great for setting up ambush runs." Milo observed dryly. "Something tells me we should expect turrets to pop out when we need them the least."

"No sense worrying about it." Dana put in. "Just keep your eyes peeled and watch your six."

Terrany's line was eerily quiet, but only Rourke had the forwardness to inquire. "You ready, McCloud?"

"The name's Terrany." She finally replied, voice calm. "And we're ready."

Flying in the middle of the formation, Milo and Dana exchanged a look and both mouthed the same question: **We?**

Rourke was all business. "All right. Set your wings to Interceptor mode and follow me in; spread formation." His twin plasma thrusters ignited their boosters, and the rest followed him in.

They were barely a klick inside the debris field before their radars started to shine warning lights. Rotating grids of what used to be one space station or another suddenly held position, displaying turrets that made haste in opening fire.

"We've got incoming!" Rourke announced, sending his Arwing into a barrel roll to deflect the first volley. "Engage at will!"

Milo and Dana veered off, and Milo wasted no time in firing off an untargeted charge shot. The left bank of hidden laser turrets basted under the intense heat of the explosion, then incinerated to scrap. "Scratch that set." Milo announced. Dana's own shot wasn't quite as precise, but certainly better placed, and the right set went up in a brief puff of smoke before the vacuum sucked out the flames.

From her vantage point behind them, Terrany caught a glint above the three as they soared for the rectangular frame of an old superstructure…which was quickly joined by others.

"Kit…Tell me you…"

_**"Yeah, I see it too. Those aren't laser turrets. Those are missile launchers."**_

Terrany depressed her trigger and hit the boosters. "I'm taking the shot."

_**"Untargeted."**_

"You sure?"

_**"You'd rather take the easy way out against an unmoving target?"**_

Terrany chuckled and lined up her reticle for the middle of the formation, veering on a course angled upwards. "Smartass. Untargeted it is."

While they were too far in to notice the turrets, Milo did have the sense to look back and see Terrany veering off the beaten path. "Hey, McCloud, where you go..."

She fired off her charged laser blast, and it vanished from sight. For a moment, green light flared off of her canopy, followed by several small dots of red.

She sent her Arwing into a dive and pulled it into a slow roll, narrowly skating into the opening to catch up to the others. "Sorry; there was a hidden bank of missile launchers up above. Another few seconds, and they'd have targeted all of us."

Rourke actually chuckled. "Good eyes, McCloud."

They were just exiting the old framework as a squadron of drone fighters veered up from below and crossed in front of them. The squadron split up into two groups as they approached a wedge-shaped piece of superstructure that seemed to go on for kilometers, and each group veered down a line.

"Well, that's convenient." Dana remarked, aiming left. "They're showing us the way."

Rourke quickly took control. "Milo, you're with me on the right. Terrany, bank left and back up Dana."

"Say what?" Dana exploded. "She can't…"

"I'm on it, Lieutenant." Terrany replied to Rourke's orders, cutting off Dana before the tigress said something that really irritated her. The four Seraph Arwings parted ways, and Terrany found herself just behind Dana, with the drone squadron flying blissfully on ahead of them.

Dana Tiger charged up her shot and lined up the targeting reticle at the center of the pack. Soon enough, her HUD chimed a confirm lock, and the red box moved from the reticle to the one closest to the center of the formation. The test pilot squinted her eyes and grinned. "End of the line, drones."

She was so focused on the prey ahead that she wasn't able to see the weapons pod that moved up from below her immediate flight path and took up position behind her.

Terrany McCloud, however, drew in a sharp breath, and prepared to issue a warning. She couldn't speak fast enough, and the dangerous pod opened fire, spewing gouts of laserbursts towards the two closest targets.

Dana's ship bounced around, jarred off course as the Arwing's shields tried desperately to keep pace with the sudden barrage. Terrany found herself dodging and weaving around the blasts headed her way, and KIT swearing up a storm.

"I'm hit! I can't shake him!" Dana cried out over the radio line, with the panic rising in her voice.

Terrany bared her fangs and gripped the yoke tighter. "Damnit, don't you go dying on me…"

* * *

KIT, of course, was never short on ideas. _**"Do a barrel roll!"**_ There was a slight pause as Terrany was performing the shot deflective maneuver before the AI burst out laughing. Terrany leveled a few hyper laser shots at the weapons pod, but the small and skittish craft swerved through the storm of blue fire without much trouble. Gnashing her canines, Terrany pulled out of the roll and banked away from another salvo.

"What's so damn funny?!"

KIT calmed down quickly, although he was still chuckling. _**"Geez, I can't believe I just said that. The old geezer'd turn in his grave if he heard me now."**_

"What old geezer?"

_**"Don't worry about it, McCloud. For now, you've got a wingman cursing up a storm because they lost their situational awareness. A common problem with hotshots."**_

"Why do I get the feeling that insult was leveled at me…?" Terrany mused, jerking the stick hard and banking the other direction to swerve clear of the pod's ongoing attack. It kept pace between Dana's ship and Terrany's, maintaining a steady stream of fire.

"I could use some help here!" Dana yowled, sending her Arwing into a spin to buy her ship a momentary reprieve. The shields were straining, and fast dwindling towards sixty-five percent, according to her ship's transmitted gauge under her picture.

"This thing's moving too fast for me to peg it with a shot, and I can't get a laser lock on it!" Terrany swore. "I've got an idea, but I don't know if…"

_**"Smart Bomb?"**_ KIT asked quickly.

"…Yeah. Smart Bomb."

_**"Ya don't need a lock. Fire and forget, and prep a charged shot to peg it while it's stabilizing!"**_

Terrany grinned. Her first high explosive of the exercise was already fifty meters ahead and blazing a quick trail towards the thing's airspace before KIT had even finished his sentence. With her trigger finger holding the blaster down, and a locus of green light collecting at her ship's nose, she braced her thumb over the button at the top of her flight yoke.

"Say when…" She said evenly, soaking a few shots to her shields as her bomb closed the distance.

_**"Almost…"**_

"NOW!" They both cried out in unison, and she depressed the thumb trigger home. The Smart Bomb, true to its performance specs, exploded in a massive radius of first blue, and then red light, baking everything in the damage zone with heat and energy of a tremendous scale. When the light died out, the weapons pod had frozen dead still, and seemed to be sparking.

Terrany grinned and lined up her reticle. "No need for a lock."

_**"Locks are for wimps." **_KIT agreed with a chuckle. _**"You're looking good. Now ice this thing and clear your wingman's six."**_

"Done and done." Terrany told her AI. The green starburst flew true, and engulfed the frazzled ship in one last defiant explosion. It scattered into fragments, and Terrany flew around the debris to pull up alongside Dana. "Your back is clear. You still have good tone on those drones?"

Dana Tiger let out a long sigh over the radio, but soon regained her composure. "Damn straight I do. Now it's payback time for leading me to the wolves!" Her shot rocketed off and followed the drones effortlessly as they looped about, then sunk in and wiped them all out in one massive photonic discharge.

Terrany whistled. "Nice shot."

Dana looked over to her wingman, canopy to canopy, and locked eyes with Terrany. Vixen and tigress felt a silent message of trust and thanks pass between them, and ashamedly, Dana turned away. "Listen, about what I said…"

"You were right." Terrany interrupted her, cutting short the undeserved apology. "I didn't have my act together yesterday. But I worked it out. So what do you say? You think I belong on this team?"

Dana smiled, then let out a short laugh. "You're absolutely crazy. You have my six covered?"

"Only if you've got mine."

"All right, Terrany McCloud. Let's go hunting." Their Seraph Arwings rocketed off towards the next stretch of the run, and KIT made a gagging noise over the ship speakers.

_**"Excuse me if I hurl after that little display."**_

"Oh, shut up and fly." Terrany chided him. She was still smiling, however, and didn't doubt for a moment that KIT knew it.

The branching path came to an end, and Rourke and Milo's Arwings flew back into view of their radars and canopies.

"Well, well, well. All together again." Rourke O'Donnell remarked blithely. "Any problems?"

"A few, but nothing we couldn't handle." Dana reassured their flight leader. She wiggled her wings at Terrany, who stifled a giggle of agreement.

"Well, that's good news." Milo announced, the rock of ages. "I'm tracking a big target on my forward scanning radar…could be our bogey."

Without even being ordered to, the Seraph Flight slipped back into formation, and Rourke nodded, an excitement and exuberance driving him on, driving them all on, with a new thought about Terrany.

**This could work.**

"All right, team. Let's take out the trash." Rourke barked out. The Seraphs hit their boosters one more time, and they shot on ahead towards a dark shape that was outlined by the blue nebulous corona of the Sector.

* * *

_Ursa Station_

Wyatt Toad and Ulie Darkpaw didn't usually leave the hangar bays and repair decks for much more than a meal or meeting reports, but the rumors of Seraph Flight's ongoing success passed through the relatively small facility like a wildfire, and they'd used their clearance to get to the heart of the action…Central Control. With the Godsight camera pods providing a view from every angle, they watched in amazement as the ships they'd poured their lifeblood into sang out with the power of space…and the pilots inside them blossom into something more than the shattered band of individuals that had been left behind when Skip was lost.

Ulie whistled disbelievingly as he looked over the shoulder of the flight doctor. "By the Creator…look at those EKG readouts!"

Standing in front of his command console, General Gray fingered the corncob pipe sitting on his armrest, but didn't pick it up. He seemed remarkably relaxed, and certainly, Seraph Flight's progress was to blame for the transformation. He looked over to Ulie and the flight doctor, and arched an eyebrow. "What are you getting?"

The flight doctor blinked. "The synch readings for Dana and Milo are where they usually are, but…Rourke's at seventy-two percent. That's six above his personal best."

The General contained his excitement by squeezing his toes together. "And what about our young McCloud? How's she doing with Kit?"

The doctor took his glasses off, cleaned them disbelievingly, then slipped them back and grunted as he confirmed it. "She's at fifty-eight percent. That's…unheard of."

The General blinked a few times. "How so?"

"For one, she's two percent shy of reaching the minimum safe synch ratio for Merge Mode…and two, _nobody_ who ever flew in that prototype ever got that high. Even her brother only made it to thirty-seven percent synch before he started having problems and dropped." The doctor stared at his screen again, and made a very powerful prediction. "The way this is looking…she might actually be able to pull it off."

Ulie looked back to Wyatt for some kind of an explanation, but the heir to Arspace Dynamics shrugged, as puzzled as the rest. "Unbelievable. Yesterday, she wouldn't even give Kit the time of day." Wyatt croaked, puffing out his throat pouch. "What happened?"

The General, well aware of her hasty letter of resignation, as well as her quick turnabout, smiled and said nothing.

Ulie scratched at his thick black fur with a paw, then yawned. "Well, whatever caused it, we just have to see if she can keep it up. They're coming up to the simulation's enemy commander. And if the one yesterday gave them grief…" He shook his head. "Well, they're going to need more than luck."

* * *

_Sector X Training Run_

The capital ship turned out to be a very strange assembly. Worse, it blossomed into something that resembled a flower, bristling with gunturrets. The four wings lifted up from the cubical ship and blossomed out to the compass points. It wasn't much later that Milo's voice crackled over the radio.

"I've seen impenetrable forces that looked like easier targets."

The command ship's outer wings clicked home into a wheel that expanded and locked outside of the craft…and then, to the dismay of the Seraph Flight, started to turn and fire.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Rourke cried out, and the four Arwings broke formation to barrel roll clear of the first salvo. The four wings each kept up a steady stream of fire, and the pattern was shaped so that anything directly in front of it faced the brunt of the attack. Even as they skated to the outsides of the track, the thing's aim proved resilient and deadly. Milo's craft was the first to take damage from the attack, and his shields flared under a brush with just one line of the thing's firepower.

"Yow! What is that thing packing for a power supply, a supernova?!" The raccoon yelped, finally steering clear. "That hit dropped me by fifteen percent!"

"What, just that opening burst?" Dana exclaimed. "I thought Wyatt said this thing had the new Paragon shield generators in them!"

"They do, but even they can't repel that many laser turrets!" Rourke snapped, starting to line up again. The command ship had ceased its firing, and as soon as he was back in position, it began to turn away from them. "Hold up, what's it doing now?"

The thing seemed to just sit there, outside of launching a few low yield missiles at them. "Dana, you're on missile patrol!" Rourke called out, squeezing a few shots off. The blue hyper laser rounds struck home, but bounced off and dissipated harmlessly from the rear surface. "Aah, blast it, the back end's ray shielded!"

Milo's voice cut in. "Hey, I think I know what it's doing…it's resting up between salvos. I guess powering that many cannons for as long as it did really drains the hell out of its capacitors."

Back inside her own Seraph, a bit behind and below Rourke, Terrany snorted. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me…who in their right mind builds a ship that has to take a breather every five minutes?"

_**"Somebody who doesn't expect the things they're firing at to live afterwards." **_KIT interjected. _**"The Starfox team faced a few things like this back in the Lylat Wars; Andross was all about doomsday weapons." **_His response was heard only by Terrany, as they'd agreed to keep their dialogue to cockpit only.

"Yeah, and he was also certifiably nuts." Terrany reminded the AI. "All right, so we're looking at something that can blow the Hell out of us, provided it has the time to recover. Meaning that we don't…"

_**"Give it a chance?" **_KIT finished. When Terrany nodded, the AI chuckled. _**"Geez, McCloud. One night and you think you're me?"**_

"There's nothing special about you, Kit. You think like I do." Terrany replied, ramping up the throttle and kicking in her boosters. The Seraph Arwing shot forward, and she momentarily sank back into her seat before the G-Diffusers caught up to end the strain. "You want to take it out before it can fire a second volley from that petal array, the same as me!"

Oblivious to their conversation, Rourke tried to make the best of a bad situation. "Dana, hang tight, I'm coming in to cover you! Milo, Terrany, try to knock off a few of those panel turrets before it can store up enough power to have another crack at us!"

Milo was the first to react to the message, even as Terrany was closing in fast behind him. The warrior fired off a few volleys, and then let out a groan of displeasure. "No good, Lieutenant! The turrets have closed up tight behind some kind of shielding! I can't knock them out!"

Rourke's next message played out the desperation in his voice, even as he fired away to clear the buzzing missiles from around the struggling Dana Tiger. "All right, so that's out. Anybody else have some bright ideas?"

Terrany narrowed her eyes as she watched the command ship, and thought long and hard about it. Possibilities crossed her mind as the vixen reviewed what they knew about it.

Her forehead felt funny suddenly. It was almost like some kind of a low hum or a current had passed across it, and a thought popped into her head. It was a good idea, to be sure, but what disturbed her was…the thought wasn't hers.

**Bomb the arrays when they open to fire.**

Terrany winced and pressed a hand to her forehead. The slightly unsettling sensation ceased, and KIT's voice came through her helmet's headset. _**"Hey, you feeling all right, McCloud?"**_

"Yeah, I'm fine." Terrany shook it off. "It's just for a moment, I thought that…"

_**"Thought what?"**_

_Thought that you had said something to me_, Terrany wanted to say. Time didn't allow her to let it get that far, though. "Never mind, Kit. Rourke, you there?"

"I'm here, Terrany. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. But I've got an idea to take down this behemoth, if you're listening!" Terrany rolled out of the way of a small group of missiles, which flew on and exploded behind her harmlessly. "This thing's ray shielded during its powerup cycle. We can't put a dent into it as long as it's bottled up like this. But it _will_ open up when it prepares to fire again, and that's our chance to hit it hard! A Smart Bomb fired dead center towards that thing should be enough to knock most of those cannons out of commission."

The other members of Seraph Flight pondered it. "The idea has merit, Lieutenant." Milo offered.

"At this point, I'm willing to give anything a try." Dana remarked wearily. "But I can't risk it; my shields are too battered to hold against that thing's main battery."

"Mine are at full strength…but I don't know if I trust my aim." Terrany admitted. "This thing's got to be timed precisely and aimed as dead on as possible."

"That's Milo's department." Rourke put in. "Granger, get down with Terrany and prep for bomb launch. Dana and I will try to keep these missiles off your back long enough to pull this stunt off!"

"Aye, sir!" Milo barked, and veered his Arwing into a reverse loop. Terrany waited as Milo did another inverse flip and landed just beside her. "All right, Terrany. How many unpowered G-Bombs do you have left?"

Terrany quickly double checked her HUD. "I already popped one; I'm down to two charges."

"You'll only need one." Milo reassured her.

Almost as if it understood their plan, the command ship began to turn around again, and launched a fresh salvo of missiles; the amount was staggering, and even with Rourke and Dana knocking most of them out of the air, fully a score got through.

KIT cut out the radar alarm after the second beep. _**"Those things are gonna hurt!"**_

Terrany swore. "Milo, can you make the shot?"

"Yeah, sure, why?" The raccoon asked, puzzled. "Aren't you taking it?"

"Negative." Terrany said shortly, boosting ahead of Milo and taking up position in front of him. "I've got to take out those missiles. You follow in behind me, and take the shot!"

It was a self-sacrificing maneuver, and it was uncharacteristically a team maneuver. Terrany was planning on taking the brunt of the thing's attack, allowing Milo to make the bombing run without worrying about being shot at.

Milo swallowed, but finally nodded. "All right, McCloud. I'm following you in. Don't let anything get through!"

Terrany held her thumb over the bomb trigger and smiled. "Perish the thought." One press, and another one of her precious unpowered G-Bombs went flying towards the pack of missiles. It struck one on the left side of the formation and incinerated six, and Terrany quickly swerved and shot three more down.

One broke through her fire, and Milo's voice came back. "Terrany, that one's got me dead to rights!"

Terrany's eyes flashed towards the command ship. It was nearly done turning around, and a fresh salvo of missiles was already being fired. It wouldn't reach them in time to prevent the bomb shot, but it would keep Rourke and Dana pinned down.

One missile. _Only one way out._

"Hang on, Kit!" Terrany yelled out, sending her Arwing into a spin that strained and twisted against the ship. It pulled into a backwards flip, and exposed the fragile underbelly of her craft to damage. She placed it directly in front of the missile's path.

The enemy missile hit home and exploded, causing her Arwing to shudder and buckle under the blow. The shields screamed out a warning, but held on stubbornly. The same couldn't be said for the rest of her ship.

KIT read off the damage report faster than she could pick it up herself. _**"Some shrapnel made it through; it's sliced through the right engine! I'm shutting it down now!"**_

The Seraph trembled a bit, and the noticeably decreased thrust left Terrany with an unparalleled sluggishness. She let out a breath and spun the Arwing about, inverting the canopy about and flying upside down. Her eyes widened, and she stopped breathing.

The command ship had opened its gun array. It was ready to fire.

"I'm taking the shot." Milo's voice came over the line, as cool as a winter day in northern Corneria. His Arwing shot past Terrany, and a streaking red line blasted out from the launcher under his nose.

The command ship began to glow bright as the turrets began the last second preparations for its second barrage. As damaged as she was, Terrany knew she couldn't clear out of the way fast enough to dodge it.

She needn't have worried; Milo's aim was as true as ever, and the command ship was engulfed in a massive fireball. The four arrays spinning about it exploded, just as Terrany and KIT had predicted, and soon broke off from the ship's gyro wheel.

What was left of the craft seemed to hang in space as Rourke and Dana flew farther away from the sparking mess. Milo chuckled, and unbeknownst to anyone, pointed his index finger like a gun at the ship and pretended to fire a round. "Bang."

The crippled command ship's destabilized power core finally went critical, and the craft exploded into a blazing red maelstrom. After a time, the reaction wore itself out, and the blinding light died down, leaving only a few tattered bits of scrap behind to mark the ship's final resting place.

Nobody said anything for a minute, until Rourke hit his communicator. "All aircraft report." He stated, a sense of satisfaction in his voice.

"I'm feeling baked, but I'll make it back." Dana Tiger offered.

"One shot, one kill." Milo mused. "No problems here, Lieutenant."

Terrany sank back into her seat and flew, at her now limping speed, towards the others. "I've got one engine down, but I'll make it back."

_"Seraph Flight, this is Ursa Control. Congratulations on passing the run. Return to base for repairs, debriefing, and some much deserved rest."_

The four pilots let out a triumphant series of whoops and laughs, and Terrany's three wingmen formed around her.

"Gotta say, McCloud…you sure know how to make things interesting. Welcome aboard, Wild Fox." Milo complimented her.

Even Rourke managed a friendly remark; friendly for him. "Next time, try to take the hit on the nose."

"I'll remember that." Terrany chuckled. "And thanks."

"Just returning a favor." Rourke told her. Their radios fell silent, and Terrany switched her Arwing over to KIT's control. "Think you can fly us back to the Hangar?"

_**"No problem. Go ahead and take a breather, I think you've earned it." **_KIT agreed, balancing the damaged Arwing out. _**"You're freaking crazy, you know that? Taking that missile hit on the chin?"**_

"I couldn't let it mess up Milo's shot."

_**"No, you could have…but you didn't." **_KIT told her, respect in the artificial voice. _**"You covered your wingman. I guess you really do have a heart under all that ego."**_

"You know something, Kit?" Terrany mused, examining the claws on her right hand. "I could almost say the same thing about you."

"Come on, team. Drinks are on me when we get back!" Rourke announced, bringing fresh cheers from Seraph Flight. They hit their boosters and streaked back towards their distant outpost on the dusty blue edge of Lylat. They were fast running out of days, but for now, there was cause for joy.

Seraph Flight was back on its game.


	7. The Attack On Ursa

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ATTACK ON URSA

**(From the Engineering Notes of Wyatt Toad)**

**Merge Mode- **The name assigned to the Seraph Arwing's control method during enhanced performance, Merge Mode engages the G-Negator Drive and its attached weapons array. The pilot synchronizes with the Seraph's onboard AI, and controls the flight and combat through mental commands. The culmination of modern neuroscience, robotic studies, and gravity diffusion theory, Merge Mode is the secret weapon that gives the Seraph a destructive potential equal to an entire squadron of Model K Arwings. However, the mental strain on the pilot is substantial, and extended use is not recommended. For that reason, a five minute limiter has been programmed into the Merge circuitry.

**(Wyatt's Personal Margin Scribblings)**

"_**This may be necessary to control the G-Negator Drive, but I still don't like it. I like my computers on the **__outside__** of my eyes. Maybe there's some way to eliminate the Merge altogether…"**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_Ursa Station_

_5 Days after Terrany's Arrival_

General Gray was in fine spirits, but the tension aboard Ursa was as thick as the fur on his back. He chewed the end of his pipe nervously while he went over the next outgoing transmission.

"What do I tell them?" He mused aloud. No answer came, and the career officer pushed himself away from his desk with a sigh. He set his hand over his eyes.

_Terrany's making progress by leaps and bounds, but the simple fact is, Carl McCloud was more skilled with the Seraph than she was. _

Terrany was an instinctive pilot. The old hound dog sighed and dropped his hand back away from his face. He'd seen others like her in his career. They flew by gut instinct, and sometimes it paid off handsomely. In the pirate crackdown, they had been the first to engage, the last to retreat. That was also the problem with instinctive pilots…They never seemed to develop that tactical sense that sometimes kept them alive. All it took was for one thing to knock them off their pattern, and…

_Maybe it does run in the family_, he mused wearily. The McClouds were notoriously instinctive pilots. Even Carl, early on had been one. He'd gotten over it, eventually…they all had to, to some degree.

"But will you, Terrany?" He asked, pulling the pipe from his mouth to stare at it.

_Or is that McCloud curse more true than I ever wanted to believe?_

_

* * *

  
_

_Sector X Training Grounds_

_"_Terrany, you've got a bogey coming in hot!"

Terrany Anne McCloud swerved her head around, staring through the top back part of her photo-reactive canopy. Sure enough, a drone fighter was lining itself up behind her. She grunted and threw her Arwing into a gut-wrenching loop, allowing the surprised fighter to pass her by. She reverted to her nominal flight attitude behind it and squeezed off a pair of laser bolts into its engines. The thing sputtered and blew apart, and Terrany's Arwing barrel-rolled around the debris.

"That's one down." She leveled under her breath. "How was that, Kit?"

_**"Pretty smooth flying." **_KIT reassured her. _**"The best maneuver there." **_

Terrany grimaced. "But not good enough?" She thought about it for a moment, then opened up her commlink. "Wyatt, what's the synch readings?"

_"I'm reading you at 57.5 percent…But it's crawling up slowly."_

"Frag it." Terrany snarled irritably, banking right to line up another drone. A few shots stitched the void behind it, and then trailed to its wing with a disabling explosion.

"Take it easy, McCloud._" _Dana called out, a female voice of reassurance. "Nobody gets Merge Mode their first time out. You just have to relax. Don't try to force it, let it happen."

"That's awfully cryptic, Dana." Terrany replied, angling her Arwing's nose skyward to rocket towards a set of four Invader V drone ships diving on her. She held her finger on the trigger, and started to charge a laser blast. "I don't do cryptic that well!"

"Then let an old ringtail put it to you another way, sport."Milo drawled, farther off at the edge of the engagement zone and picking off targets at his usual, casual, pace. "I've seen you fight. Stop thinking about it. Trust your instincts, and for the Creator's sake, shut up and fly."

Terrany grinned while KIT chuckled, and released her fully charged green shot as soon as she heard the lock tone. "Now _that_ I understand." She smiled, swerving away as the four Invader ships incinerated in the high intensity laser pulse.

Rourke let out a grunt over the airwaves. "Fantastic. Now if you're done with the pep talk, I could use a hand here!"

Milo came back. "Damn, I'm too far out…Can you ladies get to him?"

"Not me, I'm up to my eyeballs here!"Dana shot out. Terrany glanced at her radar; she was surrounded by bogies. "Teri, can you get to Rourke?"

_**"We could." **_KIT suggested to his pilot. _**"But we've got a long patch of things between him and us."**_

Terrany banked her Arwing left and set a course towards Rourke's IF/F signal. "Then let's mow the lawn!"

Terrany fired off an endless stream of lasers, and cursed. "This is wearing my finger out."

_**"Then let go of the trigger. I've set it to full auto!" **_

Surprised, Terrany pulled her index finger off of the trigger, and smiled as the hyper lasers kept clearing a path. "Kit, you saucy devil you. What are you going to do next, whistle?"

_**"Not at the same time. You've got ten seconds to intercept, so get ready!"**_

Terrany checked her HUD one last time; 89 percent shields remaining, two smart bombs (Which were really uncharged G-Bombs, but she saw no reason in using the unfamiliar term), and all systems green.

Just a synch rating with KIT that prevented her from achieving the true goal of today's all out environment rich dogfight…Merge Mode.

A few of the Invader class drones tried to sneak up behind her, but Terrany ignored them and weaved around their fire, not once breaking her path towards Rourke. She could start to make out the distinctive lines of his Arwing being buffeted by laserfire. He was trying to spin, but having rather poor results.

"I can't shake these guys!"Rourke exclaimed. "And that last shot shorted out my G-Diffuser!"

"Hang on, then." Terrany mumbled, lining up her targeting reticle. As if KIT had read her mind, the auto-fire disengaged and let her ready another charge shot. One good tone later, the green ball of fire flew in to the pack and scattered them apart. One of them managed to break clear of the blast radius, but Terrany finished him off before it could recover. Rourke's Arwing stabilized, and Terrany finally pulled into a loop to deal with the unlucky pair that had been following her. "How's that, Rourke?"

_"_Not bad at all, McCloud. You got those ones on your tail taken care of?"

Terrany was firing on them before she'd even finished the loop; by the time she pulled out of it, she had to dive down to avoid the debris field left behind. "I think I can manage. How's your G-Diffuser looking?"

"The port Diffuser just shut down for auto-repairs; Odai's on top of it. Still, I'm going to be a bit sluggish for a couple of minutes."

"Get clear and out to Milo." Terrany said, lining up behind him. "I'll escort you out."

"…Are you giving me an order?"Rourke asked incredulously.

Terrany smiled. "I don't give orders. I barely take them. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

_"…_All right, then. Stay close, I'm launching a bomb!"

A streak of red light shot free from under the nose of Rourke's damaged Arwing, and blasted a hole in the hornet's nest. A few fighters on the fringe of the explosion tried to soar in on them once the intense fire had died down, but Terrany skipped around Rourke and blasted them with pinpoint accuracy. She wavered near the end, though, and Rourke had to angle for a lock shot to finish off one that was aiming for her.

"You all right, McCloud?"Rourke asked.

In the cockpit, Terrany's skull buzzed where the helmet sensors pressed through her fur and against her scalp. She grimaced, but managed to open the channel. "I'll live. But my head's starting to hurt here…is the interlink supposed to cause headaches?"

_**"I'm not trying to hurt you, if that's what you're wondering…"**_

Rourke didn't say anything for a bit, but came back with a steady tone. "That's natural. You must be getting closer to sixty percent synch; That pulsing you're feeling is a test signal. It'll do that until you manage the uplink, since we've been flying this entire mission with the Merge Mode parameters engaged."

"In other words, this thing's going to split my skull apart until Kit and I learn how to get along?" Terrany hissed. "Blast it, that's ridiculous! Kit, shut it off!"

_**"What? But…"**_

"Lylus damnitall, shut the _damn thing off!" _

The pulsing sensation ceased instantaneously, and Terrany breathed a sigh of relief. "Kit, can you read our synch ratios?"

_**"I can access that information, yes." **_The AI remarked, slowly beginning to comprehend her idea.

Terrany and Rourke came closer to the edge of the engagement zone, and Milo's signal started to strengthen. "Then here's what I want you to do. Keep that linkup, or whatever it is, shut off until we get to that synch we need. Then turn it back on as soon as we manage it."

_**"In other words, spare you the headache until it's possible?" **_

"You read my mind, Kit."

_**"Not yet I haven't."**_

Terrany felt another pulse through the helmet's pads, and without any explanation suddenly banked hard right. It was two heartbeats later before a blistering high intensity megalaser rocketed just shy of the Arwing's vertical underside before KIT vocalized a warning.

_**"Incoming enemy! This one looks like it means business!"**_

Terrany shook off her momentary confusion and reacted. "Rourke, get to Milo! I'll hold this guy off!"

Rourke's grunt came through loud and clear. "Understood. I'll come back for you when my repairs finish!"His Arwing rocketed off towards Milo at standard afterburner, and Terrany pulled her nose up, aiming for the threat in the stars.

It flew past her canopy, and Terrany's eyes went wide. She recognized it. "Holy…"

_**"What the heck?!" **_KIT exploded, in similar incredulity. _**"That's an Arwing!"**_

"A Model A, by the looks of it." Terrany remarked. "Where in the devil did they drag that old relic up?"

_**"It may be a relic, but that thing's no pushover! That thing has just a little more stop and turn on a dime than we do, so if you're not careful, we'll fly circles around it all day and it could potshot us to death."**_

"There's a reassuring thought." Terrany mumbled, diving after it and hitting the retros to brake in the turn. Even with that, the thruster-equipped Diffusers of her Seraph's predecessor were allowing it to out-turn her. "Any ideas on how to take it out?"

_**"I was programmed to fly these things, not fight 'em!" **_KIT responded hotly.

Terrany had thought as much. She tightened her hand on the stick and tracked the Model A's course. "So. We're doing this through trial and error, huh?" She mused. "All right. Then let's go for it.

* * *

_The Model A_.

Terrany grit her teeth and forced the stick harder in, pushing her aircraft to turn as sharply as it possibly could. _The Arwing my granddad flew during the Aparoid Invasion. And if it wasn't enough that it's nimbler than I am, they gave it a megalaser._

"Kit, if you've got any ideas, I'm listening." Terrany offered.

KIT sighed over the internal speakers. _**"The only thing we've got that that thing doesn't is an excessive speed advantage. Thanks to that megalaser, it beats us out in maneuverability and armament…since we can't Merge."**_

"Is our rating that bad?"

_**"It just dropped to fifty six."**_

Terrany bit her lower lip, and furrowed her pale white eyebrows. "Fine. So all we've got is speed?"

_**"Afraid so, McCloud."**_

"Then prep the boosters." Terrany growled. "We can't out-turn this sonofabitch, but I'm betting we can outpace that cannon it's carrying long enough to loop around and pop off a couple of rounds."

There was the barest delay as KIT ran the command through the Seraph Arwing's processors. _**"She's all set."**_

Terrany's free hand slammed onto the throttle slide and shoved the touch-sensitive indicator light as high as it could go. "Boosters engaged!" She didn't need to announce it; she felt it shove her back into the Arwing's seat as the G-Diffusers rushed to catch up. They streaked ahead and in front of the Model A, which fired off several short blasts and finally ended by locking onto them.

The long and steady tone inside the Seraph made Terrany cringe. "Damn…He's got a lock on us!"

_**"He's firing, Terrany! Incoming homing laser!"**_

Terrany narrowed her eyes even farther and kept her hand steady on the throttle. "Come on…" she goaded the machine. "Faster…you've gotta move FASTER…"

The laser had gotten a good jump on them, but as the seconds passed, it fell farther and farther behind before finally losing its track and exploding harmlessly in the vacuum. Terrany breathed out her tension and swung the throttle back the opposite direction. She triggered the wings in the same movement, twisting her hand over the throttle and wing control box in a smooth motion.

_**"You're going all range? Terrany, he can outmaneuver us!"**_

"And it's guaranteed he'll try to outmaneuver whatever we throw at him. We've got to make sure this makes it through, and that means doing everything we can to keep pace with his turns!"

_**"…Flame it all. Fine, I'm with ya. Let's just see if we can't get it to flinch first."**_

The Model A bore down on them, and Terrany started to charge her laser. "A very stupid game, chicken." She remarked, firing as soon as she heard the lock-on tone. If there was one thing she had over the Model A on top of her speed, it was a longer range homing laser…At least, she'd put a bet on it, which seemed to be paying off. She barely kept track of her shot, watching the Model A trying desperately to close the gap. "Why did they name it that anyhow?"

_**"Probably because only chickens are dumb enough to run into each other. I wouldn't know, though…Never associated with 'em."**_

The Model A finally started to turn away, trying to avoid the blast. Terrany grinned and hit her boosters, closing the gap and opening up with a broadside barrage of laserfire. "Got you now!"

The enemy Arwing managed to clear away from the homing shot, but Terrany's rapid fire cut into its belly and made the shields crackle with light. It took the blast in stride and whipped about with a quick and expert execution of its Diffuser thrusters, and Terrany found herself staring down the nose of the ship.

Terrany's eyes widened. _This is the last place I want to be with this thing…_

She barrel-rolled her Seraph hard to port, and not a moment too soon as the damaging megalaser screamed through the void.

_**"Dang!" **_KIT snapped. _**"What the Hell were they thinking, putting a megalaser on that thing? That's a weapon for capital ships, not high performance fighters!"**_

"Doesn't…change the fact…it's still got one!" Terrany grunted out, between the eddies of the G-Diffuser's wake.

_**"…That could be it, maybe." **_KIT realized. _**"How do you think they put that thing on there?"**_

Terrany flew at random angles, doing her best to outpace the megalaser beams while the Model A closed the distance between them, and made her the proverbial fox to the hounds. "Jury rigged it, probably! It's a miracle they got it to fit inside it at all. Looks like they gutted the bomb launcher to do it!"

_**"You didn't see the lack of armor plating there, did you?"**_

Terrany swore as another blast from the Arwing's megalaser punched into the Seraph, draining nine percent away from the shields in one go before she broke free. "Sorry, I'm too busy getting my tail shot off here!"

_**"What I'm getting at is that if you can punch through its shields, even for a little bit, a few good shots should disable that cannon. And I gave it a scan just now; It doesn't have any other weapons systems active."**_

Terrany dove down, avoiding another beam that blasted just overhead. She'd caught that. "You don't think they had to disable the normal armament to support that?"

_**"I was surprised to see it using a megalaser to begin with. As much power as that drains, I think that those techs who set this thing up would have had a hard time keeping them."**_

Terrany grinned faintly and looped back around, getting shot twice more in the process. Her shield gauge readout marked her down at 76 percent. "In other words, we take out that cannon…"

_**"And that thing's dead in the water."**_

Terrany found herself nose to nose with the Model A once more, and locked in a homing blast. The Model A did the same. "The trick's going to be lining up a shot for that."

_**"Nobody said this was going to be easy."**_

Terrany wore a valkyries' smile as she depressed the bomb trigger, and launched it to track in on the locked Arwing. "Nope. But they forgot to tell me this was going to be fun."

The Model A threw itself into a loop, and Terrany's grin grew wider. _Yeah, that usually defeats radar lock, but only if you're being tailed from behind._

_**"…Eh? You say something, McCloud?"**_

Terrany blinked, and reoriented herself. The bomb was still tracking in while the Model A reached the top of its loop. "Huh? No. Why?"

KIT was silent for a bit. _**"I thought I heard you say something about radar lock."**_

Terrany squinted her eyes, even as the canopy darkened to shield her from the tremendous explosion of red that swallowed the Model A. "No, I didn't say that." She replied, realizing the implications. "I…I _thought_ it."

KIT exhaled, as much as an AI could simulate it. The unconscious gesture surprised Terrany, but KIT let it slide. _**"It's coming out of the explosion. The Seraph's sensors are picking up a sizable drop in its shield strength."**_

"I'd expect so." Terrany agreed, moving in after it and locking on again. Another green starburst of laser energy flung itself off of her nose cannon and towards the damaged enemy ship. "We just roasted it over the coals. Did we fry any of its systems?"

_**"That's a negative, Terrany. You dinged it real good, but it's still flying at max capacity!"**_

Terrany swore. The Arwing boosted ahead of her laserburst and cut in on her turn. If she broke clear of it, turned away, it would have an open shot. If she kept going down into the spiral they were at, it would still get her. The thing's turning performance was still better than hers. "Kit, we can't keep this up. It's going to slag us here."

_**"If you've got any ideas, I'm listening!"**_

Terrany ran the options through her mind, and found only one. It was a risky gamble, but it might work better out here in open space than it had in a nitrogen-oxygen rich atmosphere. "Kit, how quickly can you shut off and restart this thing's engines?"

_**"…Crud. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"**_

"Inertial slingshotting." Terrany replied curtly. "I tried it with Milo's Odai back on Katina when they came out to test me, and it worked there on Dana. It might work here."

_**"It might work better." **_KIT admitted, perhaps more proudly than he'd meant to be. _**"AIs are good for patterns, but they're crap when you try something out of the ordinary."**_

"Except for you, right Kit?" Terrany grunted, hitting her boosters and breaking free of the spiral.

_**"Heh…Yeah, I guess you could say that." **_KIT finished. _**"I'm powering up the docking thrusters. You worry about the flying, I'll handle the engines. I just hope we don't break something."**_

"We probably will." Terrany answered, bracing herself in the seat. "On my mark, shutdown and tilt to forty five degree down angle, bearing 150. Now…Now…NOW!"

The Seraph's near subliminal vibrations instantly ceased, and it lurched under the new force of its ventral and port maneuvering thrusters. Still soaring on its original course, the Seraph turned itself about handily under KIT's control. Terrany grinned as no warning lights came on. "Damn, this maneuver _does_ work better in space. You still have the main engines primed?"

_**"They're still hot, but they're losing it fast. I wouldn't want to try a cold start out here!"**_

Terrany's eyes flickered over her radar; The Model A was tracking in on them, but hadn't registered their orientation…She hoped. If it had, this would be a very short dogfight. "Start 'em up!"

The Seraph Arwing regained its familiar hum, and the G-Diffusers caught the shift in time. Regardless, shooting forward in a near opposite direction and angle from its original path slowed it down enough to fool the Model A. When the Seraph finally did adjust its velocity in its new course, the Model A was readying to fire another megalaser beam at the target it considered _slowed._

The attack, of course, hit open air, and suddenly Terrany McCloud was soaring on a path underneath the surprised Model A.

Terrany opened her mouth to speak, but froze when she felt the hum of the main engines dissipate, and her Arwing beginning to spin with another judicious application of the docking thrusters.

_KIT….?_

The Model A was beginning to turn; it was anticipating the attack, but the Seraph was suddenly lined up perfectly underneath it…the Megalaser dead in Terrany's crosshairs.

There was no question, no deliberation. There was only, in true McCloud tradition, instinct and reaction. Terrany pulled the trigger, and fired round after round of hyper laser fire into the Model A's weak underside.

The shots pitted the cannon with holes, and left similar marks of destruction along the hull. The megalaser, however, was the selling point.

KIT and Terrany's assumption had been right; it was a rush job. The megalaser hadn't been properly shielded, and the safeties had been disengaged to give the Model A homing laser capability.

When the megalaser cannon lost containment, it took half the Arwing in the explosion. Terrany squinted her eyes even as the photo-reactive canopy darkened, and let KIT reorient the Seraph back on a straight course in the opposite direction. What was left of their foe sparked, crippled and fatally wounded. A few seconds later, as the Seraph's main engines reactivated for the second time and shot them off, the Model A's fusion reactor went critical and engulfed the rest of the ship in flames.

Terrany took a few moments to catch her breath. "Kit…Any more targets out there?"

_**"The screen's clear, McCloud. Nice job."**_

Terrany leveled off and turned back towards Rourke and Milo…and Dana, who was flying towards the pack on a separate vector. "Kit? How did you know to do that last part?"

_**"…You pulling my chain? You told me to."**_

Terrany shut her eyes, and felt the familiar hum of her helmet's cerebral sensors press against her skull. "No, I didn't. I barely…had time to think it."

KIT took the news in stride, but waited a moment before speaking. When he did, it was in surprise. _**"Terrany?"**_

"Yeah, Kit?"

_**"…In the last ten seconds of that fight…Our synch ratio was up to 59.87 percent."**_

The number was their best score yet, Terrany realized…but not good enough. Not for what they needed.

"Merge Mode's still beyond me, isn't it?" She asked the AI quietly.

KIT let off a noncommittal noise, and let the radio do the talking.

"Terrany, that was…that was ridiculously brilliant!"Milo gushed.

"Oh, relax. She used that trick on me before. It's nothing new."Dana Tiger scoffed.

"Either way, it worked…but we didn't succeed here."Rourke reminded them. "How close did you get to the required Synch, Terrany?"

Terrany McCloud caught up to them and slipped into the rear position as they formed up for the flight back to Ursa. "Not close enough."

The rest of Seraph Flight didn't say anything more after that. They flew back in silence, triumphant…

And yet, at least in Terrany's case…

Failures.

* * *

_Ursa Station_

"We have two days left." General Gray announced to Seraph Flight, pacing around the meeting room. His unlit corncob pipe was looking well gnawed. "Two days until our superiors at the Cornerian Air Force want this unit up and operational."

Milo Granger raised a paw, and the General nodded for him to continue. "General, I've probably asked this before, but for the benefit of the others, if not myself again, why does it have to be in two days? Will this alien fleet be in range by then?"

The General sighed. "No. In two days' time, you are to rendezvous with the 7th Fleet, which is massing just off of Aquas. From there, you and the rest of the strike force will engage the enemy fleet head on."

Both Dana and Terrany winced at the notion. Rourke took the initiative.

"That seems a rather foolhardy plan, given what little we know about these invaders." Rourke pointed out. "A single ship, probably no more than a heavy scout cruiser, managed to take down Carl. Why are they so eager to throw the rest of us at their whole fleet?! Until we know more about their capabilities, we're flying down the barrel of a loaded gun!"

The General nodded gravely. "I know, I don't approve of the plan myself. But I have to take orders…just like you do. And those orders say that this Flight is operational in two days." He scratched behind his left ear for a few moments. "That'll be all, then. Go get something to eat. Train. Do something. You're all making me nervous just from secondhand tension."

Rourke bit his tongue and led the team out. Terrany lingered at the back of the line, and let the others guide her. They were opinionated enough once they cleared the General's office.

"That's the most ludicrous plan I've ever heard!" Dana exploded.

Milo yawned, looking very tired, and shrugged his shoulders. "That's brass for you. They're looking for a knockout punch. And they think we can do it."

Rourke exhaled. "_Now_ I remember why I hate this job. I never did like taking orders."

"Yeah, I imagine things were easier when you were still a merc." Dana reiterated, swishing her striped tail behind her. Rourke chuckled and ran a claw under his chin.

"No, not easier. But at least I was free." He glanced back over his shoulder and nodded at Terrany. "You've been awfully quiet since we docked, McCloud. Usually, you can't help but offer your opinion."

The albino furred fox blinked twice and looked up towards Rourke. "...Huh? Oh. Yeah, I guess." She mumbled.

Her three wingmen of Seraph Flight stopped and turned about to look at her. Terrany was surprised to find all of their faces watching her with sympathy. It was a sign of how far she'd come in so short a time, that there was respect and concern instead of mistrust on their faces.

Rourke stared down his snout at her. "What's bothering you, Terrany?"

Terrany looked away, ashamed. "I couldn't do it. I'm the reason that we're not ready."

Milo laughed. "Oh, come on. Nobody gets Merge Mode their first time out. Matter of fact, you're due in the medical bay. They wanted to review the mission's biofeeds with you."

"What good is that going to do?" Terrany asked the raccoon plainly. "I was still half a percent short. And even when I got close, I…"

The other three looked at her, and Terrany covered her eyes with a paw. "I don't know." She finished meekly.

"You'll figure it out." Dana reassured the young McCloud, putting a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "We all did eventually."

"And if I don't?" Terrany asked, putting the unthinkable question in front of them.

Rourke stared at her, and then pointed a claw towards her face. "You'll get it." He stated flatly, leaving no doubt in the sentence. He turned and started to walk off. "Because the alternative isn't worth thinking about."

* * *

_Ursa Medical Bay_

The flight doctor on call was the same chestnut furred simian that had been in the last time Terrany had gone for a visit. His mood had improved considerably, probably due to the lack of other patients. News of her successful integration to Seraph Flight also brightened his outlook enough for the ape to properly introduce himself as Sherman Bushtail.

After they'd exchanged pleasantries, Dr. Bushtail had then made Terrany take off her flight jacket and go through the usual motions: Breathing, coughing, visual acuity, and so on. The curious thing was that right after, he had picked up an impressive flatscreen datapad three-fourths of a meter in length and half a meter high, and lost himself in the readouts with a series of 'hmms' and 'aaahs.'

This went on for nearly two minutes before Terrany's impatience reached a boil. "Hey doc, what's so blasted interesting? Did I contract some rare terminal disease?"

That caught Sherman Bushtail's attention, and the simian turned his flattened face towards her and shook his head. "Nothing that interesting, I'm afraid. But I was comparing your biometrics to your flight data."

Terrany picked up her discarded flight jacket and pulled it over her khaki T-Shirt. "And what does that tell you?"

Dr. Bushtail smiled at her and pulled his white doctor's coat around his shoulders a little tighter. "A lot, if you know what to look for." He stood up and walked over to Terrany, displaying the datapad. It was a mess of lines and charts to Terrany.

Dr. Bushtail pointed them out, one by one. "This one's your pulse. That one shows your brain activity, and the one next to it is your synchronization rate with your ship's AI. And those rendered graphics at the bottom…"

Terrany stepped into the conversation, watching the silhouette of two Arwings dueling in open space. "I know what that is. That's me."

The doctor nodded. "That's something the boys in engineering rigged together for me. It helps to have a visual." He held a finger above the touchscreen's play button. "I paused the simulation run. Five seconds in from this timestamp, you'll run through the maneuver that allowed you to defeat that old Model A they rigged up for you. Pay close attention to your psychokinetics when you do." His forefinger hit the start, and the simulation ran on.

Terrany watched the readouts of her brain activity, which had probably been collected from her helmet sensors. Just as the flight doctor predicted, there was a tremendous jump in one of the lines when she and KIT executed the maneuver.

"What was that?" Terrany muttered, checking the color of the line against the readout legend. "Delta waves? What are those?"

"Delta brainwaves are commonly produced when you're sleeping in a REM state: It's a measure of how active your subconscious is." The flight doctor adjusted his glasses. "In lay terms, that's more or less the strength of your will."

Terrany stared. "Yeah, but what do my dreams have to do with flying the Seraph?"

Sherman scratched at his nose thoughtfully. "The Merge Mode system of the Seraph Arwings use your delta brainwaves to connect you to the AI. Your subconscious mind has far more potential than waking thought. Have you ever had a vivid dream? One that seemed completely real?"

Terrany thought about it, and nodded weakly.

"When you're dreaming, your mind makes up everything. Sure, it uses memories, but the construction of it, building the sensory aspects that make it _feel real_, pulling all that together is a tremendous amount of work." Dr. Bushtail went on excitably. "The amount of raw computing power that your subconscious mind has can surpass nearly any supercomputer. Merge Mode allows you to synchronize your thoughts with the AI on board your Arwing. Without that extra control and ability, you couldn't fly the G-Negator."

"That's just it." Terrany told the simian, understanding his lecture but finding no utility in it. "I _can't_ Merge. I've tried. I always come up short!"

The flight doctor rubbed at his chin, and pointed back to the biometric data. "I noticed that. I don't think that it's a glitch, either. Here, watch that last part of the dogfight again, when you're doing those breakneck turning and flipping maneuvers that aren't approved under the warranty."

He rewound the footage again, and Terrany watched the shape of her Arwing spin about in the void, gaining a bead on the Model A and avoiding its megalaser.

The image froze just when her Arwing was about to spin and line up the shot that won her the engagement. Sherman's finger came over and guided her eyes to the synch readout.

It read 64.3 percent.

Terrany drew in a breath. "What…But…Wait a minute! That's impossible!"

"I thought so, too." Sherman replied nonchalantly.

Terrany stared at the number. "There's no way it could have been that high. Kit told me we'd only reached 59 and some odd percent of synch!"

"On average." Dr. Bushtail clarified. "More specifically, that was the average for two seconds' worth of flying time."

"But still…if I peaked at 64 percent, why didn't Merge Mode kick in? I told Kit to establish it the moment we got there!"

"Believe it or not, Kit was following your instructions as well as the Seraph allowed him to." Sherman reached into the front pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a small pointer. "The Merge circuitry's loaded with redundant backups and more safety features than a thermonuclear device. One of them is that you can't stay connected with your AI in Merge Mode for more than five minutes; after that, the strain on your mind becomes too much. But a lesser known, and equally important safety feature, was put in to keep accidents from happening."

Terrany narrowed her eyes and stared over the readout. "What kind of accidents?" The pale vixen growled warningly.

If Sherman Bushtail was upset at the response, he didn't show it. "Everybody occasionally gets a moment of insight…a burst of will, if you can imagine it. You see your surroundings a bit more clearly, you notice something you didn't before, you pick up the scent of blood on the wind and know exactly how far away it's coming from…that sort of thing. That same kind of insight can fool the sensors in your helmet into thinking you and the AI are operating closely enough to Merge, when in fact, you're not…and it's rather painful to try and Merge without that synch ratio."

Terrany winced and recalled the throbbing pain she'd felt in her skull from Kit's ongoing failed connections. "Yeah. I can see that. But if I got that high, why didn't it take?"

" When we designed the Merge circuitry, we put in a two second monitor. Any amount of momentary insight lasts less than two seconds on the sensors. Anything more, and the reading's genuine…and you and your AI connect. That's your answer there. Your synch didn't stay that high for long enough."

Terrany closed her eyes, crestfallen. "I see."

Dr. Bushtail hooted quietly for a moment, and then tapped on the edge of his large flatscreen. "There was one thing that surprised me, though. A burst spikes far above normal and then drops back just as suddenly. But in your case, all through the simulation, you were holding steady in the fiftieth percentile. At that moment, you crossed the threshold…and then pulled away from it. Not as quickly as a fluke reading, though."

He tapped the play button again, and the simulation continued. Her ship aligned, she fired, and the Model A took its mortal injuries.

And all through the barrage, her synch reading dropped from that marvelous 64 percent…to 54 percent, not quite two seconds later.

Terrany stared at it, and Dr. Bushtail leaned in, sensing she was thinking on it.

"Did you remember something?" He asked, hoping for a positive.

"Like what?" Terrany came back, still staring at the readout.

"The drop wasn't accidental, and it wasn't just a burst of insight. You reached that height, and then you pulled back from it. There's a reason why, and it's irritating me to no end because I can't place it. And there's got to be something you know that explains it."

Terrany closed her eyes for a moment, and thought back to what was running through her mind when that happened.

She remembered what KIT told her afterwards…that she'd told him to do it. But Terrany hadn't uttered a word in that small section of time. Had she really spoken to him…with her mind?

If the synch had gotten that high, it sort of made sense. It wasn't the first time that KIT had 'read her mind' either…but it was the most upsetting.

Upsetting.

Terrany opened her eyes back up and stared at Dr. Bushtail. The simian waited patiently.

"What was going through your mind when that happened?"

Terrany stood up , and slowly shook her head. "When Kit moved the Arwing without me telling him to…It surprised me."

He waited, and finally blinked after a few seconds. "That's it?"

Terrany nodded. "Yeah. That was all I thought. Kit did what I wanted to do, without me ever asking him to. I'm not used to that happening."

* * *

"So, Dr. Bushtail gave you the clinical description?" Dana asked, when Terrany met her for a drink later on.

Terrany pulled the straw to her iced tea out of her mouth and swallowed before nodding. "Yeah. I figured out a few things, though."

The tigress picked up a handful of bar nuts and rattled them around in her paw. "I can't believe you actually got to 64 percent synch. With Kit, that's just unheard of!"

"Unheard of or not, it still wasn't enough." Terrany sighed. The vixen slumped forward onto the bar and rested her head in her arms. "Dana, how am I going to be ready in two days?"

"You got close this time. You did better with Kit than anybody else ever has. Even better than…"

Dana's voice cut out, and Terrany closed her eyes. "Even better than my brother, right?"

Dana Tiger put the bar nuts down on her napkin and exhaled. "Yeah."

Terrany opened her eyes, but didn't sit up. "I'm almost jealous of you, you know? You saw him last."

Dana laughed, to keep from crying. "I also heard him die."

Terrany sat up straight. "You what?"

Dana reached for another napkin and dabbed under her eyes. "Yeah. We were all listening to Carl's transmissions when he went out for that last flight. It was just supposed to be another test, to try and see how far we could push the standard plasma thrusters. Instead, he ended up getting jumped by that alien scout ship…and we heard him fighting for his life, and losing. His last report was him saying he'd launched a G-Bomb…and then nothing." Dana put the napkin aside. "We think the explosion got them both."

Shocked, Terrany took a moment to drink some more tea. When she swallowed, she spoke again. "I didn't know."

Dana sniffed. "Forget about it. It's in the past." She looked to Terrany. "I was rash earlier, when we first met. I thought you were going to come in here and try to replace Carl. But you didn't. We've expected a lot out of you from the moment you arrived and you've delivered."

Terrany raised her iced tea in thanks and sipped some more. "I couldn't replace my brother. He was a leader…I can barely keep my own life straight." She chuckled and stared through the amber liquid to her counterpart. "He was the real McCloud, Dana. You were lucky to know him."

"And love him." The tigress agreed, saluting Terrany with her own drink.

They finished off the round and Dana motioned to the barkeep. "Another one. And make mine a West Shore iced tea." The bartender nodded and set to work, and Terrany mulled over the drink choice.

"Hey, doesn't that have distilled corn liquor in it?"

"No, rum."

Terrany let out a small cough. "Rum? Here?"

"Rule one of a military outpost on the fringe of Lylat, Terrany." Dana answered with a smile, taking a long draw when the barkeep set it in front of them. "In absence of shore leave…you get drunk."

The younger McCloud nodded. "Nah. I only ever got drunk when I was depressed. I'll pass."

Dana swallowed again. "Depressed? Doesn't this count for you being depressed?"

"I don't follow."

"We're two days from shipping out against Lylus only knows what, and you're ticked off that you can't merge."

Terrany gave it only a moment's thought before she shook her head. "No, I'm not ticked off. I'm worried."

"You'll get it, Teri. We all did."

The last McCloud ran her finger along the edge of her glass. "What's it like?"

"What, Merging?"

"Yeah." Terrany winced to hear Dana describe it so casually. "I mean, you're plugging yourself into the Arwing, or it's plugging into you…Doesn't that scare you?"

"Maybe a little at first, but I came into Project Seraph as a test pilot." Dana replied calmly. "I'm used to putting my life on the line inside of strange aircraft." She smiled. "What, are you afraid of it?"

Terrany blinked a few times. "Afraid?" The word brought up stark images that did little to ease her perception of the procedure. "…Maybe. There were times in that fight that Kit swore he heard me tell him something, but I'd not said a word."

"You think he was picking up your thoughts?"

"What else could it be?"

Dana rubbed her left ear. "That's a good thing, then. It means the synch was working. That's the whole point of it: To make flying that aircraft easier. Without it, you can't unlock the potential of the Seraph."

Terrany flattened her ears against her skull. "What did it feel like? Merging?"

Dana thought for a moment, and picked up her iced tea. "It feels like…You become the ship. You don't see through the cockpit. You're outside of it, watching the Arwing fly from behind, aware of everything happening around you. You feel every pull of the trigger, every smooth and seamless turn. The hum of the G-Negator almost becomes your heartbeat."

Terrany gave Dana a horrified stare. "That's awful!"

Dana chuckled. "Well, another way to look at it is this…you're an instinctive pilot, right? You fly by your hunches and the tactile feel of the machine around you. This is just the next step. What you think, the AI thinks, the Arwing does."

"And in all the time you've been flying these things, did you ever feel like you lost yourself?" Terrany pressed.

"Lost myself?"

"Like…you couldn't tell where you ended and the machine began?"

Dana scratched at her head. "No. Never. I mean, my Odai's parameters adapted to fit my own, sure…but when Merge Mode disengages, I'm still me. I'm the one with the personality."

Terrany chuckled weakly. "Yeah…That's something, all right. But there are days I think that there's more to Kit than that goofy AI lets on."

Dana cocked an eyebrow at Terrany and twitched her whiskers. "What are you driving at? Are you afraid of Merging because of Kit? Because he's different?"

"He's the prototype." Terrany elaborated solemnly. "Wyatt Toad told me once that they dumbed down the Odais…because Kit was too much for anyone." She chuckled dourly and threw the straw out of her glass, downing the rest of her iced tea in one swift gulp. "So yeah. I guess I am afraid…Afraid that if we do Merge, I won't be the same Terrany McCloud afterwards."

The tigress's eyes were starting to glass over, thanks to the speed at which she'd drank her alcoholic iced tea. She pondered Terrany's answer, and then offered a quick barking laugh.

Upset, Terrany leaned away from her. "What's so funny?" She demanded.

Dana leaned her weight on the countertop and got out the last few silent guffaws. "Well, Teri…" She said, when she could speak again, "I was just thinking that if you're this upset about Merging, and you really believe that Kit's so much different than the other Seraph AIs…I wonder how Kit feels about the idea?"

* * *

"You got her?" Terrany grunted, hefting the weight of an unconscious Dana Tiger onto Milo's shoulders. The ring-tailed raccoon chuckled, not straining as much as Terrany had.

"Yeah, I've got her. Thanks for calling me, by the way."

"Does she do this often?" Terrany asked her wingman, stretching to work the strain out of her shoulders.

Milo shook his head. "She didn't, before Skip died. After…More times than I care to admit. It's a credit to her resilience that the alcohol works through her system pretty fast. Give her about four hours, she won't even have a hangover." Milo shrugged and gave Terrany a sad stare. "Rourke and I just try to pick up the pieces."

"She always comes off so strong." Terrany mumbled, walking alongside Milo.

The older pilot nodded, and kept going. "She is that strong. Carl meant everything to her. She's still able to fly, still able to fight…still able to hold it together. She's a great test pilot, and when the mood suits her, a decent friend."

Terrany looked at him, and chuckled to herself. "You're something else. I mean, I'm a hot-rodder. Rourke is…Well, Rourke, and Dana is nearly bipolar. Where in the Hell did they dig you out from?"

Milo smirked. "Why? Do you need to know?"

Terrany blinked. "Well, I…No, I suppose I don't. I was just asking. Rourke hasn't even told me his story, besides that he's here to repay my brother for some favor he did for him. You guys are all mysteries to me."

Milo considered it, and then nodded his head. "All right, you've got me there. I came in as regular army. Kept the rank."

"You mean, you weren't a pilot?"

"I manage well enough. I had the right kind of brain for this project, and they forgive the rest. But on any given day, you three could fly rings around me."

"So why did you join up?" Terrany asked.

Milo's smile thinned out, and he stared on down the hallway to the elevator at the end. "Because I never miss my target. Ever." He looked over to Terrany and nodded. "That'll do for now, I think. And now, Terrany, give me an explanation."

Terrany rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Compared to all of you, I'm an open book. You've read my dossier, and I'm sure that Carl talked up a storm of stories about me besides."

"True, but there's one thing not even Skip had an answer for." The raccoon went on, in his typical easygoing drawl. "That last air show you were in on Katina…what happened up there?"

Terrany halted and blinked at the sudden question. She drew in a slow breath, watching Milo watch her expectantly.

Then her communicator went off.

_"Hey Terrany, this is Wyatt Toad down in engineering. I've got something here I want to show you. Swing on by if you've got a minute."_

Terrany blinked a few times, then smiled apologetically to Milo. "Mind if I take a rain check on that answer?"

"As long as you pay it eventually." Sergeant Granger answered, walking himself and Dana towards the elevator. "You'd best go see what that Toad wants. He's a real nut, but he's damned good at his job."

Terrany nodded. "You've got her?"

"I've done this before. She's in good hands, Terrany." Milo reassured her. Dana finally shifted a bit and offered a groggy, slurred message.

"Whuz…wh'm uh?"

"You're on Ursa, Dana. I'm taking you to bed." Milo soothed her questions, doing his best not to sigh.

"Buhd's good." The tigress droned on. "Yuh know, Mowuh, yuh a good fwmd."

"So they tell me." The raccoon answered her, leading her into the elevator. "Come on, then. That's a good girl."

Terrany waited until the elevator doors shut on the two of them, then turned around and walked towards a different transport. Even as she chuckled about Dana's self-inflicted condition, a pang of guilt, and something deeper ran through her.

The memory of that air show lingered on still. Yes, she was afraid of Merging with KIT…

_But more, I'm afraid of screwing up again._

_

* * *

  
_

_Hangar Bay 1_

_Engineering Department_

Terrany wandered around for five minutes in the pressurized aircraft hangar without seeing Wyatt Toad. It took her that long to see somebody she felt comfortable asking for help…Ulie Darkpaw meandered by, whistling a tune and lugging a toolbox in his left hand.

Terrany whistled sharply at him to get his attention. The ursine jumped and looked over, then relaxed. "Ah. Terrany, it's just you. What are you doing down here?"

"I'm looking for your boss, Wyatt. He called me earlier, said he had something to show me." Terrany explained, walking over to him. "I'm striking out, though. Do you know where he got off to?"

Ulie set his toolbox down and scratched at his head. "Well, this time of night, he's usually in the back engineering rooms tinkering with some damn fool thing or another. It's a wonder he gets out at all."

Terrany restrained herself to a small smile. "Right. Okay then, which way is engineering from here?"

Ulie motioned to a rather plain and unnoticeable door fifteen meters off to the side. "Back that way. Sorry I can't stick around, but they called me over to Hangar Bay 2. Milo's lasers need recalibrating."

"Hangar Bay 2? I thought we kept all the Arwings here in Bay 1." Terrany mused, surprised. Ulie scratched the side of his nose with a trimmed claw and grinned.

"Usually, but we had some transports come in today earlier with some engineering supplies, so we had to transmit the other three Arwings over to make some room. We would've sent yours, but Wyatt insisted he needed to have KIT and your Seraph on hand." The bear blinked. "Hey, maybe that's why he sent for you!" He picked his toolbox back up and kept on walking, waving behind him. "Remember, through that door now!"

"I've got it, Ulie." Terrany waved to him and marched in the opposite direction. She opened up the unlabeled door and walked inside, and lost herself in another world.

There were shelves and shelves of gadgets and wires and motors, and every other sort of item one would expect to see in an engineering department. Emphasizing the militaristic bent of Ursa, there were also various chunks and portions of weaponry.

Terrany walked cautiously through the maze. "Wyatt? Wyatt, you in here?"

A croak off to her far right drew her attention. "Yeah, I'm back here. Come on in, Terrany."

Terrany squeezed past some more heavily packed shelves, and finally located an open space filled with worktables. In the room of fluorescent lights, Wyatt Toad sat up by a counter, diligently fiddling away in the interior of some kind of pod under a single sun lamp.

"Working hard, or hardly working?" Terrany asked the amphibian lightly, strolling up beside him.

Wyatt let out a reverberating warble and turned his head up to smile. "Funny thing is, sometimes this doesn't feel like work." He held up the piece of machinery. "You know what this is?"

Terrany stared at the pod, and noticed a set of thrusters around the posterior end. "Some kind of satellite?"

"Close." Wyatt nodded approvingly. "This thing's what we call a "Godsight" pod. It's basically a reusable camera on a rocket that can feed visual data to a controlling source. We tested them out a little before you came on board, actually. You get enough of these little buggers together in one spot, you can paint a very accurate portrait of the battleground." Wyatt set it back down on the table. "We're planning on making them standard on the Seraphs later on. Right now, though, the feasibility isn't there; storage issues."

"Huh." Terrany folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you wanted to show me?"

"Eh?" Wyatt blinked, then suddenly remembered. "Oh. Oh no. No, I was just modifying the stabilization thrusters a bit to try and improve the fuel efficiency." He stood up and headed for another table, where a small jewelry box sat surrounded by even more of Wyatt's clutter. "I called you down here to give you this." He picked up the box and opened it, to reveal a small blue earring stud.

Terrany blinked. "Um…It's nice, Wyatt, but I don't know how comfortable I'd feel accepting jewelry from you."

Wyatt snorted. "Oh, be serious now. It's more than an earring. Go ahead, put it in."

Still dubious, Terrany reached for the trinket and slid it through the piercing in her right ear. She was grateful that it hadn't had a chance to heal itself shut since she left Katina.

After securing the clutch in the back, Terrany cleared her throat. "All right, it's in. Now what?"

_**"You say hi, ideally."**_

Terrany jumped a bit, and Wyatt's large mouth curled into a huge smile. "He's eager, isn't he?"

Terrany reached a finger up and brushed at her earlobe. "But…Kit just said that."

Wyatt nodded. "He did indeed. That little bit of jewelry there is a radio transceiver connected to your ship's computer. And no, it doesn't have a speaker: It vibrates just enough to recreate an audio carrier wave, which transfers straight to your auditory nerve through your fuzzy little ear. It also picks up the vibrations you make when you speak."

Terrany tugged at it, fast impressed with the technology. "That means I'd be able to hear him talk even if I was next to a jet engine, right?"

"Yes, and he'd be able to hear you as well."

"This is incredible." Terrany exclaimed. "Did you make this?"

"Well, the technology's been there for a couple of decades, but I managed to give it a power source that finally makes it feasible."

Terrany tugged on her ear. "Oh? What's running it?"

"A microgram of the mineral that powers your bombs."

The last McCloud froze, and turned her cold eyes on the amphibian. "What."

Wyatt blinked. "Huh? Oh. You're worried about it going off, aren't you?"

"I've got a miniaturized Nova Bomb strapped onto my head, Toad. I think I've got a right to be worried."

Wyatt croaked and nodded. "Fair enough. But you don't need to be. It's not weapons grade, and it's very stable. The only way that could go off is if you were engulfed in an atomic fireball, and you'd be dead before it went off anyhow."

"Well, that's comforting." Terrany exhaled. She tapped the earpiece a few times, and noticed it made a subtle vibrating chirp each time, powering on and off . "So how long will this thing run?"

"The mineral will generate enough power for about two weeks…more, if you power it down when you're not using it."

"Good to know. What do you think about this, Kit?"

_**"It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. Things get lonely down here sometimes. It'll be nice to hear from you every so often."**_

Terrany smiled. "Ideally, you won't be using it to bother me too much. I need a life, you know."

_**"Ohh. YOU need a life. So, what, I'm just supposed to sit here and diddle myself the rest of the time?"**_

"Geez, Kit, relax." Terrany soothed the temperamental AI. "You sound almost alive when you get in a funk like that."

_**"…Yeah." **_KIT agreed somberly. _**"Almost."**_

Terrany scratched at her other ear. "All right, I'll make you a deal. I'll do my best to keep it on most of the time. But I don't want to hear you complaining when I do turn it off. Okay?"

_**"It'll do." **_KIT acquiesced. _**"But tell Wyatt thanks for me. He puts in a lot of work, and I don't think he hears gratitude too often."**_

Terrany turned to Wyatt, a slight grin over her predatory features. "Kit says it took you long enough."

_**"Hey! That's not what I said!"**_

"He says you should have had a whole shelf full of these things by now." Terrany added, winking at the blinking Wyatt to reassure him of the joke's intention.

The engineer caught on and laughed, then waved her off. "Go on and get out of here, will you? I've still got work to do."

Terrany yawned. "Yeah, I can live with that. It's getting pretty late."

"Go on and sack out. You've earned it. And tell KIT to try and set himself in standby. It's not healthy for him to be online 24/7."

Terrany laughed as she turned for the door. "It's impossible to tell Kit anything."

_**"And the sooner you realize that, the better we'll get along."**_

Terrany rolled her eyes and vanished back out past the shelves of equipment towards the exit. "And how about when I come up with crazy ideas in combat? How come you listen to those?"

_**"Because, McCloud, the crazy ideas are the ones that **__work__**." **_KIT replied smugly. _**"Besides, I'm pretty sure we're both crazy."**_

"Yeah." Terrany sighed, stepping out of the engineering department and closing the door behind her. "And we're both afraid."

_**"Afraid? Afraid of what?" **_The AI asked, confused.

"Merging." Terrany elaborated softly. She got nothing but silence. "Or maybe it is just me…but I was talking to Dana. And I think I am a little afraid of it. I mean…Merging. It's basically connecting my brain to you, right? Dana said it was like becoming a part of the machine. And I'm afraid that if we did do that…"

_**"…That you might not be yourself when you came back out of it?"**_

Terrany paused inside of Hangar Bay 1, and turned to stare towards the corner where her Seraph, and KIT, sat docked in power-down mode.

For a brief moment, Terrany thought she could feel KIT looking at her.

"You feel like that could happen too?"

_**"I'm not saying it couldn't." **_KIT replied, his artificial tone more subdued than usual. _**"There's a lot of unknowns about this. Sure, the rest of your team can link up with the ODAIs. But the ODAIs aren't like me. They're replicas. As Wyatt loves to remind me, I'm something else entirely."**_

"Right, because you're more advanced. You've been programmed with the tactics and experience of the Lylat Wars' greatest pilot." Terrany agreed. "But…do you have my grandfather's personality?"

Again, KIT sat thinking for a long time before he spoke again. _**"I have **__a __**personality." **_The AI said cryptically. _**"And for whatever else it is, there are things that make me me that I'd like to keep a hold on."**_

"Just like I want to still be Terrany after we pull out of Merge Mode." The last McCloud concluded. "That's probably what's screwing us up. We get there…we think the same, we come up with the same move, we react at the same time…but then we get afraid of it, and what it means. We need to Merge, but we **can't**. We don't want to, almost."

KIT harrumphed. _**"Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. But we're going to Merge eventually, Teri."**_

"What makes you so sure?"

_**"Because if we don't, the Lylat System's up a creek without a paddle. Given those odds…Even if it means that I'll lose a part of who I am…I don't have much of a choice in the matter."**_

KIT's lackluster enthusiasm caused Terrany to sigh and walk for the elevator that would take her out of the Hangar Bay. "It's one thing to know it. It's another to want it. Something about my subconscious mind, Kit. I can justify needing to Merge. It's harder to want to. The same probably goes for you."

_**"All right, then. If you're the psychiatrist in our sordid little relationship, how in the heck do we make it work?"**_

"I don't know." Terrany mumbled, pushing the button for the elevator.

_**"What? What do you mean…"**_

"I said I don't fuckin' know, all right?" Terrany snapped. She rubbed at her forehead and exhaled loudly. "I'm too tired to figure it out right now. So I'm going to sleep on it, and see what I can come up with in the morning. You should do the same thing."

_**"I don't sleep." **_KIT argued.

"Then shut yourself off for a while. Hibernate. Whatever." The elevator doors opened, and Terrany stepped inside. "I'm going to bed."

_**"And if I come up with something?"**_

"Tell me about it in the morning." Terrany pushed the button for her residential floor and then raised a hand to her ear. "Night, Kit."

_**"Yeah, ni…"**_

**Click.**

The doors to the elevator shut, and Terrany finally closed her eyes.

She was going to sleep like a log tonight.

* * *

_Hyperspace_

_Just Beyond Sector X Decommissioned Zone_

The rest of the fleet was behind them.

Every group in the invasion force had a mission. The lone carrier's mission was a prologue to it all.

Destroy the space station within the ruined nebulous cloud. A simple task, and one it would perform without any problems at all. It had come here following lines of communication from the single spacecraft that had gone up against a scout cruiser and beaten it to a standstill.

The space station had been that spacecraft's home base. The war council believed there to be others like it…And that could not be tolerated. Within a short time, they would emerge from their long galactic journey and strike the first blow against the Lylat System.

There had been a rumor about ship that the Lord of Fire had purposefully earmarked the station for destruction. It was likely just a rumor, though. Their Lord had more important things to worry about than a single installation. There was all of Lylat to burn.

That did not keep the captain from brooding over the specificity of his order.

**Neutralize the space station.**

**Destroy all Arwings.**

**

* * *

  
**

_Ursa Station_

_Command Center_

It had been a quiet night for the porcine radar operator. Twice he'd felt himself nodding off already, and now he was bracing for his third. His avian counterpart on the communications console nudged him, and the technician came to with a start.

The feathered technician smiled at the hog. "Late night, huh?"

"Getting later by the minute." The pig yawned and stretched his arms. "I think I'm going to go get a cup of joe. You want one?"

The red-feathered avian blinked. "You sure you should be leaving your post? Your shift doesn't end for another forty-five minutes."

The pig shrugged, and pointed down at the screen. "Look. There's nothing going on down there." He kept pointing and stared to his counterpart. "Hell, a vegetable could man this post. So, is it going to be one sugars or two?"

The avian wasn't focused on him, though, the hog suddenly realized. His wide eyes were staring dead at the radar screen.

The pig looked again, and let out a squeal of surprise. A massive return blip, the size of a Cornerian ship of the line had just appeared nearby. "Lylus fornicate it all, what in the…"

"You can forget about that coffee, I think." The communications technician remarked, checking his own equipment. He set a hand over his headset's earpiece and shook his head. "I'm not getting an IF/F signal. That's an unknown bogey."

The hog shook his head in dismay. "I'm detecting a massive hyperspace rift around the object. It's coming through a portal." He cross-checked the references. "Radar imaging doesn't match it up to any known spacecraft."

The radio technician clicked his microphone on. "Unidentified spacecraft, this is Ursa Station. Hold position and identify yourselves, over."

In response, a barrage of missiles suddenly launched from the carrier and started tracking in.

The klaxons triggered automatically, and Ursa woke up from its sleep to the sound of panic and alarm.

The avian technician looked to the pig. "Well, they just identified themselves." He mumbled, his voice detached to keep from panicking. "I would imagine…that's the enemy."

The hog nodded gravely and looked over to what served as the combat consoles, which wasn't much at all.

"And I would imagine we're pretty well screwed." The pig echoed, watching the missiles track in.

* * *

Ursa Station wasn't a combat vessel. It was an out of the way installation that had long ago passed its prime and been marked for decommissioning. That was a large part of why it had been chosen: It was out of the public eye, it didn't need a lot of money to get running again, and could be incorporated into the sort of black operations research that was responsible for the Seraph Arwing. It had particle cannons around the exterior to deal with any approaching debris that might threaten the station, and a deflector shield to deal with the smaller bits of space matter that might inadvertently punch a hole through its walls, but by and large, Ursa was unarmed.

As the first salvo of missiles closed in, the automated guns took aim and started firing, and took down a few with bursts of concentrated fire. There were more missiles, though, than Ursa's limited defenses could deal with, and the rest impacted in bright, glorious fireballs.

Ursa shuddered under the first assault, its shields overloaded and its anti-aircraft batteries annihilated. Fifteen seconds into the engagement, and Ursa was crippled and declawed.

* * *

_Ursa Control Room_

"Creator damn it all!" General Gray snarled, as he picked himself up off the floor. The alarms were still going off, and he jerked his head around. "Would somebody shut that damn noise off?!"

When the klaxons finally were put to silent, the General sighed. He still had sleep in his eyes, but he was awake. "Bastards." He muttered, looking to the station's officer of the watch. "Damage?"

"I could tell you what isn't broken first." The feline officer, an orange tabby replied glumly. "Those missiles just knocked out all our defense guns, and the shields got worn down to forty percent."

"Forty, my ballsack!" General Gray snarled. "What do we have powering them, a car battery?!"

"Sir, this installation was never made to withstand an enemy attack! It's a research station!"

The General sank back in his seat and jammed his corncob pipe in his mouth. "Well, isn't that just terrific." He hit the communicator switch in his chair. "All hands, Ursa is under attack. I repeat, we are under attack by hostile forces. Confidence of alien origin is high. Seraph Flight, I don't care where you are, but _get to your planes and LAUNCH ALREADY!"_

He clicked the stationwide message off and reached into the front pocket of his uniform. To the dismayed stares of the rest of the bridge crew, their commanding officer pulled out a pouch of tobacco and started to stuff his pipe with the noxious (And on a space station, risky) dried leaves.

The avian communications technician looked over, shaking his head. "Sir, what are you doing? You know you can't smoke in this station!"

The General gave him a withering stare, and the bird looked away ashamedly. General Gray stared back at the main monitor, which had now brought up a visual image of the gleaming alien space cruiser closing in fast.

"The way I see it, we just got knocked out of this fight." The General announced calmly, putting his pouch away and reaching for a pack of matches. "We've got no guns, and Ursa's as good as crippled in a bear trap. Our only hope for survival is in our aircraft…and the only ones worth a damn on this station against that kind of firepower are those four Seraph Arwings sitting down in the Hangar Bays. So given all that, I'm going to have myself a smoke, and I'll demote anybody who tries to stop me. Clear?" The solemn stares offered no further sign of argument.

The radar operator let out a squeal of panic. "Sir, I'm getting more returns…that ship is launching fighters!"

The General felt another headache coming on, and doused it by striking a match and lighting his pipe. He drew the poisonous, but pleasant fumes into his lungs and held it there before exhaling the sweet cloud out. "Should have taken that desk job." He muttered, readying a second puff.

* * *

She'd been dreaming about when she had been four years old; her father had taken her and her brother up in an old twin prop airplane. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky, and the roar of the engines had been a constant hum. The feeling of the aircraft rumbling around them had been a soothing sensation, even when their father threw them into dives and loops and spins that strained the plane to its limits. It had played out much the same this time, up until she wondered why alarms were screaming on a machine so rustic it didn't even have digital gauges.

Terrany jerked up from her bed disoriented and confused. It took her a moment to remember where she was; Ursa Station, out in the middle of nowhere in Sector X.

And the alarms were going off.

_"All hands, Ursa is under attack. I repeat, we are under attack by hostile forces. Confidence of alien origin is high. Seraph Flight, I don't care where you are, but get to your planes and _LAUNCH ALREADY_!"_ General Gray's voice rattled what little doziness was left in her system clean out, and a parched sensation filled her mouth.

"Hell." She muttered, jumping for her closet. She didn't bother changing out of her nightshirt, and tossed on her old dusty flight jacket and a set of trousers. The boots went on unlaced and stayed that way as she burst from the door and into the hall.

Milo was already running in her direction when she emerged, looking haggard. "Hell of a way to wake up." He got out. The two ran side by side, dashing towards the elevators.

Terrany pumped her legs harder and rationed her breathing. "How did they…find us?"

Milo puffed out his cheeks; running obviously wasn't his thing. "Probably followed…the signal from…your brother's Arwing."

_Back when they killed him_, Terrany realized. She quickened her pace, angrier than before.

"Others went…on ahead." Milo panted. "But you're…in Hangar Bay 1, right?"

Terrany flashed her fangs. "Yeah. I've got to…split up soon."

They skidded to a halt at the end of the corridor next to the lifts, and Milo nodded at her, still breathing hard. "Get on your communicator…when you get to your Arwing. Lylus only knows what's out there."

"I'll keep in touch." Terrany agreed. Her lift's doors separated, and she hopped inside, punching the button for Hangar Bay 1.

_Wait a minute. _She thought, as the doors closed and the elevator started to descend. _Keep in…oh, great. You forgot about it._

Chastising herself, she raised a hand to her ear and activated the earpiece communicator. "Kit, are you on?"

_**"I've BEEN on for the last five minutes, McCloud! Where in the Hell have you been?!" **_The AI snapped irritably. _**"Ursa's under attack, and you're sleeping on the job!"**_

"Oh, don't give me any of that crap, you bucket of bolts." Terrany snarled back. "Get the Seraph online and warmed up. We won't have time for the checklist when I get down there!"

_**"Two steps ahead of you again, kid. The engines are hot, and all systems are green. The Hangar's empty, too. Everybody, including our old pal Wyatt is off hiding while the fireworks are going off."**_

"Smart move." Terrany breathed. "One lucky shot and the hangar bay would depressurize. What do you know about the conditions on the outside?"

_**"The Seraph's radar's useless while I'm parked, but I hacked a link through the Ursa network; According to Rourke O'Donnell's radar feed, the ship that attacked Ursa launched about 15 fighters after it. The alien carrier's just hanging back for right now, letting its attack force take care of things."**_

Terrany bit her lip. "Rourke and Dana are out there…has Milo gotten to them yet?"

_**"No such luck. He hasn't launched yet either. Where are you, anyhow?"**_

The elevator slowed to a halt, and the doors started to open. Before it could complete, though, the entire station shuddered and the lights flickered out. Terrany swore in the darkness until the emergency red lights kicked on, and she stared at the exit doors, left only partially ajar and with no power left in them. Out of the crack, she could see Hangar Bay 1…and her Seraph Arwing, which sat patiently waiting with its running lights blinking.

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me!" Terrany yelled, throwing her weight against the doors. "Kit, the power just died in here, and the elevator doors are stuck."

_**"If this station and everybody on it wasn't in danger right now, I'd be laughing my head off at the joke here."**_ KIT went silent for a moment, and then spoke up. _**"Terrany?"**_

Terrany McCloud shoved her arms in between the doors and grunted, trying to force them apart. "Yeah?"

_**"Another radar signal just clicked on. Sergeant Granger's in the fight."**_

Terrany froze. "How's he doing?"

_**"Not good." **_KIT replied. The AI sounded genuinely worried. _**"We've got to get out there!"**_

"I'm trying!" Terrany shouted, straining against the doors. "But these things won't…budge!"

_**"Try harder, McCloud! If you can't get out, then we're all dead!"**_

Terrany strained against the doors even harder, and screamed her lungs out.

* * *

_Outside Ursa Station_

ODAI broke the bad news to Milo with its usual candor. _"Sir, I am detecting multiple objects on an intercept course."_

"I thought you would." Milo mused. "Smart Bombs ready?"

_"Firing chamber is loaded."_

Milo swerved his craft up towards the swooping trio of fighters and allowed himself a grin. "Time to go hunting, then." He fired it off, and the bomb rocketed upwards and exploded in its usual red light. The fighters danced around the outside, skating clear of the damaging fireball and almost taunting him.

"Oh, bugger me sideways." Milo exhaled, pushing himself into a barrel roll as they opened fire. "Dana, Rourke, I could use some help here!"

_"We could all use some help, it doesn't mean we're going to get it!" _Dana shot back. _"I've got four on my tail!"_

"Rourke?" Milo asked hopefully, grunting as a shot caught him at the tail end of his roll and sank through the deflective barrier his G-Diffuser had erected.

_"Damnit, Granger, these guys are tearing my ass off! I couldn't get a shot in sideways if I wanted!"_

Granger grunted, and threw his plane into another barrel roll. "This is not my ideal place to be in a dogfight…" The military veteran hissed.

_"Sir, radar analysis indicates that the target fighters' maneuverability matches our own."_

"Oh, that's something I could have gone without hearing." Milo grunted. "Can't either of you trigger Merge Mode? We could really use it right about now!"

Milo let out a cry and swerved to avoid a fighter that was flying at him in a kamikaze strike. "Creator damnitall, that one almost got me!" He flung himself into a loop to keep his tail from getting shot off, and dropped in behind his pursuers. He landed a few shots, but they broke off before he could even disable one. "Where in the Hell did these things come from?!"

_"That's a no go on Merging, Milo." _Rourke's beleaguered voice popped back onto the radio. _"I just…I can't focus!"_

Milo felt his jaw tighten, and he started to charge up a laserburst, for all the good it would do. "Let's just hope that Terrany gets out here soon, then."

* * *

General Gray puffed on his pipe again and watched the battle unfold. The data they were getting from the Arwings wasn't the least bit promising. They were getting the tar beat out of them, and they were vastly outnumbered.

"They should be doing better than this." He muttered. "How come they're not in Merge Mode?"

He tapped his chair's communicator. ""Wyatt! Are you watching the datafeed?"

No response came. The crusty old hound punched it again worriedly. "Wyatt Toad! Respond!"

Laserfire rocked the station, and the command center was thrown into darkness lit only by the viewscreens and monitors. A few of the technicians screamed in panic, and General Gray forced himself not to yell at them. They weren't military, after all, most of them.

"Steady, people." He cautioned them. "Get emergency power running, now!"

One of the deck officers scrambled to his switchboard, and a pale red glow bathed the command center in eerie light. General Gray took another puff on his pipe. "Status report. Did they get our generators?"

"They got one of them. A power surge knocked out most of the interior systems." One of the station officers answered worriedly.

_Damnitall._ "And the shields?"

The officer read it, then exhaled in relief. "Still up. It's the only thing still running, besides short range radar and our linkup to the Arwings. But internal power's out. Elevators, nonessential functions, communications…all gone."

"Meaning, I can't get a hold of that frigging wart to explain why my next generation Arwings are going to get blasted into scrap, and us with them?" The General rumbled.

The officer nodded apologetically. "Sorry, sir."

"Well, isn't that just terrific." General Gray exhaled. "All right. Somebody up here know why in the Hell our gifted team hasn't activated Merge Mode and flipped on their G-Negator drives?"

The technician over at the flight personnel console looked up. "I know why, sir. It's their synchronization ratios. Miss Tiger and O'Donnell aren't flying at their usual best out there." He froze. "Wait. I'm getting data from Sergeant Granger's Arwing." The technician's face went ashen. "No good. He's out of it too."

"Blast it, why? They've been preparing for this!" The General thundered. He gripped the armrests of his chair so hard his claws dug into it.

"The fact that it's 2:30 in the morning and they're outnumbered and flying in a shooting gallery probably isn't helping matters." The technician offered. "Fact is, they're too tired, and there's too much going on for them to focus right."

His pipe reached the end of its tobacco and snuffed itself out, and the General exhaled the last cloud of sweet relief. "Any sign of McCloud yet?"

"None, sir. But before the system went down, we had a report saying she'd been spotted running for an elevator to get to Hangar Bay 1."

The General shut his eyes to keep from slapping himself in the forehead. "Please, let there be some kind of justice in the universe." He muttered.

Another burst of laserfire strafed the station, and the shields rocked under the blows. The bridge crew sat tensely, watching the General for orders, for reassurance, for guidance.

The old hound stared blankly at the main viewscreen, showing a radar feed of the fighters flying around the station, and the alien carrier off in the distance…just watching.

"We have no guns, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the only fighters on this station in launch condition are the Seraphs…three of which are engaged, and the fourth is in Hangar Bay 1, unattended."

"Yes, sir."

"Power's been knocked out, so even if we wanted to try opening a linkup to the testing grounds to try and summon some drone fighter support, we couldn't."

"…Yes, sir."

General Gray pulled his pipe from his mouth and tapped the ashes out of the bowl onto the floor. He nodded slowly. "Well, it's out of our hands, then. All we can do then is hope that McCloud got out of the elevator before we lost power."

He shut his eyes and leaned back. "The war's started two days early, and whether we live or die depends on whether or not Terrany McCloud was able to get to her Arwing, or if she got stuck in the elevator."

* * *

The control room staff exchanged worried glances, and the General waved a hand in the air. "If any of you are the praying sorts, now would be a good time."

Her arms felt like rubber, and Terrany slumped onto the floor of the elevator, staring at the doors that refused to budge.

_So close…So damn CLOSE…_

_**"McCloud, did you get out?"**_

"No." Terrany panted, setting her head in her hands. "They're…They're just too strong. I can't do it."

KIT let out a groan. _**"No."**_

_"Terrany?"_

Terrany sat bolt upright. Another voice had come through her earpiece, and it wasn't KIT's. "Wyatt?"

Heavy footsteps approached the elevator doors, and then two figures in bulky pressurized airsuits appeared. Terrany squinted and looked up into the visors, to find…

She grinned. "Wyatt!" The vixen looked over to the other, and looked into the smiling eyes of a black-furred bear. "Ulie!"

Wyatt let out a warbling laugh over his suit's intercom. _"In the flesh…and in a pair of spacesuits. I hope you don't mind me hijacking your frequency, Kit?"_

_**"Whatever, Toad." **_Unseen by Terrany and her two rescuers, KIT focused one of the Seraph's onboard cameras to get a look at them. _**"Can you get Terrany out of there? We've got some aliens to fry before this day's through!"**_

_"We came prepared." _Ulie answered calmly. He held up a piece of equipment that Terrany recognized as an old fashioned tire jack. _"Can't believe we had one of these in storage, boss."_

_"I'm a packrat when it comes to tools." _Wyatt gloated. _"You'll want to stand back, Terrany. We'll have these doors pried apart in no time!"_

The two mechanics wedged the tire jack sideways between the doors, and spun the crank between them as quick as their suits allowed them to move. Terrany got to her feet, and when they finally cleared another third of a meter, jumped through and hugged them both.

"You two are terrific!" She gushed, and Wyatt guffawed to see Ulie blushing inside of his helmet. "But what's with the suits?"

_"That's the boss's idea." _Ulie answered. Terrany looked to Wyatt, and the mechanic nodded.

_"With all the shooting going on outside, I figured it was only a matter of time before we had a hull breach. Now get going! The rest of Seraph Flight's getting their ass handed to them."_

Terrany gave their shoulders one last squeeze of thanks, and then dashed towards her Seraph. "Kit, engage the G-Diffusers and open the cockpit!"

_**"I'm on it." **_The AI replied quickly. He came back with a smug retort. _**"Do you want me to lower the ladder, too?"**_

"You're being a smartass again, Kit."

_**"Yeah, I know. I'll stop." **_The AI chuckled. By the time Terrany reached the collapsible ladder, the Arwing was beginning to lift off of the metal decking of the hangar bay. She climbed the ladder with practiced ease and hurled herself into the cockpit, barely scooping her helmet up before she landed in the seat.

KIT lowered the canopy down, and the transparent covering sealed shut with a hiss. Terrany propped her helmet in her lap and started strapping herself in. _**"Hyper Lasers are keyed up and ready. The bomb launcher should have enough juice to give you three shots."**_

"Three's a good number." Terrany mused. "But is it going to be enough?"

_**"What, you kidding me? I never met ANYTHING that could survive three smart bombs."**_

"I'm not talking about the bombs, Kit." Terrany snapped, picking up her helmet and staring at it. She could feel the bumps on the interior ridge that marked the neural sensor's locations. "I mean…We might need Merge Mode."

KIT was silent for a few seconds, then scoffed. _**"Yeah, sure. We can hope for it, but it doesn't mean we'll get it."**_

"I'm still afraid of it." Terrany slipped her helmet over her head, being careful to slip her ears through the helmet's top openings. "Did you think of anything when I was trying to sleep?"

_**"I got nothing. And while we're coming clean with our feelings, yeah, I'm afraid of it, too. But you're right. We could really use it now."**_

Terrany secured her helmet and reached for the controls. "Kit, give me a synch ratio."

_**"I'm reading our linkup at…42 percent. Rising steadily."**_

"Let's hope we get there. Wyatt, Ulie, you still listening?" She stared out the canopy, seeing the both of them standing at the back of the hangar, still snug in their protective suits.

The figure that was Wyatt waved. _"Yeah. What do you need?"_

"I need the two of you to go hide somewhere until this blows over."

_"You don't need to tell us twice!" _Ulie chuckled. The two started running for the door to Wyatt's workshop, quickly clearing the distance.

Terrany turned her eyes back forward, and started to taxi her Arwing into launch position. "All right, Kit. Any last words?"

_**"Fly your heart out, McCloud. It's in your blood." **_KIT advised.

Terrany chuckled and keyed the radio switch on the side of her helmet, activating the communication system. "Guys, I'm getting ready to launch! Hang on, I'm coming!"

_"Terrany?" _Dana's incredulous voice rang out. _"Where the devil have you been?!"_

Terrany lowered her hands to the control stick and throttle. "Had some problems with the elevator."

_"They've got us outgunned, and they're tearing Ursa Station apart!" _Rourke snapped. _"Protect the station at all costs! They've already gotten one generator, and if they get the other, then there'll be nothing left to protect it from being blown to atoms."_

"Generator. Got it." Terrany chirped, narrowing her eyes. "You with me, Kit?"

_**"I never left you, Teri."**_

"Then don't now." Terrany breathed, and started to amp up the thrusters to launch.

* * *

The multitude of alien fighters had yet to take a single casualty, though it spoke to Seraph Flight's credit that the enemy hadn't knocked any of them out yet either.

Rourke dove straight through a formation, which forced his own tailgating foes to brake and weave around. It was all the time he needed to boost away and break free. "Nice try, punks!" He snarled, glancing quickly to his radar. Milo was still getting beat to death. "Hang on, Milo, I'm coming!"

_"I could definitely…UNH…use the help here." _Milo deadpanned, grunting from another barrage. Rourke hit his boosters again and sustained them, draining the rechargeable fuel cells down. A trio of fighters rocketed by on his left, and Rourke braced himself for the attack.

It never came, though. "What the heck…?" Rourke jerked his head around and stared over his shoulder. The fighters were making another run on the station, it seemed. He almost looked away before he noticed that they weren't flying for the generators…

"Oh, God no." Rourke breathed in horror. They were headed for the docking ports.

They were headed for Hangar Bay 1.

"Flight, this is Rourke!" He shouted out. "I think these guys can interpret our radio messages! Terrany, _they're coming for you!"_

Dana's gasp was clear as day. _"No, but she hasn't launched yet! Terrany, get out of there! You're a sitting duck in launch mode!"_

Undisturbed, the three fighters took up position just outside of the energy field that separated the vacuum of space with the atmosphere of the hangar within…and started firing inside.

Rourke felt his heart stop, and he screamed Terrany's name.

* * *

Up in the Ursa Control Room, every voice went silent as the Seraph's radio transmissions came in. None of them wanted to believe it.

"Not again." General Gray uttered, seeing Carl McCloud's death happen once more.

Rourke's scream numbed down every other thought that didn't involve Hangar Bay 1.

The technician at the flight personnel console was watching Terrany's data as well, now that she'd begun broadcasting. He waited, with a sense of despair, to watch her biometrics shudder and flatline.

To his surprise, the lines held steady. Except for one.

The synchronization ratio suddenly spiked…at sixty-four percent. And it held.

"General?" The technician called out, in a wavering and unsure voice. "Uh, General? I think…"

"Damnit, son, Terrany McCloud just died!" The General snapped angrily. "Can't it wait?"

His rant was interrupted as a new radar blip appeared on the main viewscreen…and the three fighters hovering near the hangar bay disappeared from sensors. A welcoming chime made them all turn and watch, and then stare in disbelief.

* * *

Rourke stared agog at the lower section of Ursa as a hail of brilliant white laserfire streaked out from inside of the hangar bay and tore the three alien fighters to ribbons.

The cunning wolf pilot felt a grin come to his face, replacing terror for outright joyful shock. There was only one kind of ship on Ursa that could produce a laser that strong, and of that color. And if those shots had been fired, then that meant…

Terrany McCloud's Arwing flew through the hail of debris and fire and spun into open space. One thing remained clearly different about it…Secondary wings had unfolded out from the main ones to give the Seraph a butterfly-like appearance, and the twin thrusters at the rear of the craft were offline. The G-Negator Drive was operational.

_"Flight…This is…Terrany, flying with Kit." _Her voice came over the intercom, hesitant at first, but growing more assured of itself. _"Merge Mode successful. We're coming in."_


	8. Breakthrough

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER EIGHT: BREAKTHROUGH

**The G-Negator Drive**- The Gravity Diffuser Drive, or "G-Diffuser" for short, was a breakthrough invention developed at Arspace Dynamics shortly before the onset of the Lylat Wars. Utilizing the concept behind deflective shielding, engineers were able to cancel out most gravitational pull through refractory resonance, creating a 'gravitationally bouyant' sphere of control around objects of influence. The G-Diffuser pods were field tested on the prototype SFX/Model 1 Arwings, to great success. The Arwings gained a level of maneuverability that outshone any existing craft of the day, save the similarly equipped Wolfens.

The G-Negator is a Third Generation Gravity Diffusion system, and culminates the original goal of the technology: Complete freedom from all gravitational sources. G-Negation allows an affected ship to move independently of thrusters or other standard propulsion methods. The G-Negator is currently being field-tested on the prototype X-1 "Seraph" Arwings. Tests have shown that the G-Negator allows the X-1 to move in any direction and make any turn or flip regardless of inertia or gravitational influence.

**(From Slippy Toad's margin Scribblings)**

_**What we can do now with technology is absolutely astounding. I'm just glad we're field testing these in Sector X, and not over Corneria or Macbeth. The last thing we need are reports of UFOs darting one direction and turning in another suddenly…and this time, being true.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

Terrany was in the final procedures for launch. The engines were hot, and she'd just ramped them up to full throttle for departure. KIT had accessed the controls and increased the hangar bay shield transparency, to let them through. Her radio was abuzz with news from the others, and it steeled her nerves. They were out there, fighting, dying, and they needed her.

The Arwing started to move down the corridor, flying a thin razor line. There was one direction to go, and that was straight. Any sudden turn or jerk on the stick, and she'd shear the wings right off on the ceiling or floor.

Her helmet radio crackled. _"Flight, this is Rourke! I think these guys can interpret our radio messages! Terrany, they're coming for you!"_

Terrany's eyes widened, and she heard KIT gasp. There wasn't time to question the bizarre, and very anthropomorphic exclamation before three alien fighters dropped into her line of sight…

Directly outside the hangar bay exit, blocking her path. And their guns were trained in.

Terrany stared at them, and knew, absolutely _knew_, there was no way out.

_If there was a time for Merge Mode to work…It's now._

The thought passed over Terrany's mind, and she knew she'd been the originator. What was odd was the secondary message that flashed in the back of her mind.

_We have to Merge._

That one, she realized, was KIT…

And she had agreed with him.

Then everything was brilliant light, and noise, drowning out the world.

* * *

_It felt like she was floating. _

_"You might be." KIT's voice came, awed and hushed…and normal. It didn't sound digitized at all. It almost didn't sound like him for a moment, but she knew it had to be KIT._

_Terrany turned about, and a glowing figure, taller than her by a head and outlined in blue, smiled at her. At least, it looked like a smile. It was hard to place, given how bright everything was. It was hard to tell what he looked like at all…he was just an outline._

_Terrany blinked. "Kit? Where am I?"_

_The entity that was KIT waved an arm about the calm white void. "This is the Arwing's main computer. There are program files scattered all about, but I'm the only thing that can move between them. Or I was, until you showed up."_

_"Did we…"_

_"Merge?" KIT asked, chuckling as he finished her sentence. "You standing here is proof that it happened."_

_Terrany touched herself, confused. "But…I'm still me."_

_"And I'm still me, kid. So much for the theory we'd disappear."_

_Terrany grinned. "Unbelievable! We actually did it!"_

_KIT scratched at his head. "Uh, McCloud, we covered that already. Don't you think we should get moving?"_

_Terrany looked skyward, seeing nothing but ever ongoing white. "How do we do that?"_

_KIT folded his arms. "You're tied to the ship now. Just tell it what you want it to do."_

_"That's it?"_

_"Should be. And you've got me, of course."_

_"…How much time's passed on the outside?"_

_"About six milliseconds."_

_Terrany smirked. "What, that's it?"_

_"This conversation's happening between your brain and mine. That's speed of thought. Yeah, that fast."_

_Terrany shook her head. "Okay then. We're Merged. What can we do?"_

_"Well, for one, the G-Negator's kicking in. Two, your plasma thrusters shut off as soon as we got the right synch…oh, and you've got the nova lasers keyed up."_

_"I thought those burned out quick, though."_

_"Not if you're careful." KIT looked away from her and back to the void above them. "You can use your own senses, of course…but that would defeat the purpose. Don't feel yourself. Feel the Seraph. Fly."_

_"How do you know all this?" Terrany asked the ethereal spirit of her ship's AI. KIT laughed quietly for a moment, and for a moment, Terrany thought she could make out his hand…_

_"Easy, McCloud. They programmed me to tell you what to do. All you had to do was make the leap. So get moving. You've got an Arwing to fly."_

_

* * *

  
_

She opened her eyes, and saw the world through multiple lenses. Her own vision, the Seraph's forward rotating camera, radar…All simultaneously, and faster than would ever be possible on her own. Her hands still touched the yoke and throttle, but another flash of thought told her that they were no longer needed.

She blinked and looked to her left, and then her right. Her Arwing's wings were splitting apart, with smaller wings detaching up from the main ones above and below the horizontal axis. They aligned at a 45 degree angle, and locked into place. The G-Diffuser pods that tied the wings to the Arwing hull split apart along the same axis, and then split again on the vertical, dividing the chrome blue housing into four sections. A powerful laser cannon appeared from the middle of each device.

**G-Negator active. Field wings deployed. Establishing gravitational anomaly in .75 seconds.**

Terrany looked forward, not with her eyes, but with the Seraph's camera. With KIT guiding her movements and answering questions almost before she could finish asking them, it all took place quicker than one could expect.

**Thrusters…deactivated.**

The three alien ships fired at her, and Terrany's mouth began to twitch, moving slower than her mental commands. They would not strike her in time before…

With a simple thought, as easily as she might flex a finger, Terrany caused the Seraph to nudge itself six feet to the left, while still facing out. It was a sidestep, a maneuver that no ship ever made by Arspace Dynamics had ever been able to perform before.

The laserfire strafed by the Arwing, close but without hitting. Within the bubble of force that made the Seraph hold a gravitational buoyancy of zero, Terrany's smile finally bloomed.

**Now it's my turn.**

She blinked her eyes.

The laser cannons that had emerged from the G-Diffuser pods erupted with brilliant white fire, and three pairs of bolts ripped down the hangar corridor, each set aimed dead center at an alien fighter ship. They didn't have a prayer. Each exploded in a tremendous fireball of debris, and Terrany lunged the ship forward. In the back of her mind, KIT's voice meshed with her own.

_Now it's OUR turn to kick some tail!_

Her Seraph Arwing blasted out of the fire balls and into open space, spinning in a whirl and dancing within its own gravitational sphere. She could see her wingmen. She could see the blinking dots in the distance, tiny red markers in a full 360 degree arc of impossible vision that showed every enemy around Ursa. And she saw the alien carrier ship, standing off in the distance and watching.

"Flight…This is…Terrany, flying with Kit." She was startled at the sound of her own voice, so out of place when put next to the clarity of thought and motion she had just performed. "Merge Mode successful. We're coming in."

_You bet your ass we are, McCloud. _

_

* * *

  
_

_Ursa Control_

"Creator bless it all, SHE'S ALIVE!" General Gray thundered, and the room exploded into raucous cheers. The military and civilian personnel lost themselves in the moment of triumph, hugging each other and slapping each other on the back. It was the General who snapped them back to their senses. "All right, all right, that's enough! We've still got ourselves one Hell of a bad situation here, folks, so let's keep our eyes on the ball. Simmons!"

A tomcat stood up from his station. "Sir?"

"Get our comms working again. I don't care if you've got to use chewing gum and paper clips for this scrapped junker, but we've got to be able to talk to Seraph Flight!" He pulled his corncob pipe from his mouth and dumped out the ashes. "Get moving!" Simmons took off in a flash of fur, and the General whirled on the rest of his team.

"The rest of you, I've got two other tasks. Break out the emergency radios. They won't be much good for calling for help, but we can at least get a hold of the rest of the station's personnel, if they're following procedures." The general held up a second finger. "And start evacuating people."

The technicians didn't believe him, and one spoke up bravely for them all. "Why, sir?"

The General stared hard. "This isn't a vessel of war, and we're already crippled. Even if Terrany and the others can hold off the fighters, that carrier isn't going to sit idly by. They've fried most of our shields and knocked out every system. Once they take out that other generator, this place is going to be as safe as a colander in the ocean with the bottom cut out." He scanned his eyes around the room. "For now, get as many non-essential personnel into our transport ships as you can. Turn the elevator shafts into rope slides, if you have to, but get them there!"

"You don't mean to launch, sir?"

"Not unless we have to." The General reiterated, clamping the empty pipe back in his teeth. "But I'll feel a lot better knowing they're in a pressurized ship than a failing space station. So get to it."

The rest of the bridge crew started moving, their tasks set. Some disappeared, dragging handheld radios that were quickly thrown or passed out. More stuck around, trying to get systems working again. The General sat back down and picked up the handheld communicator they'd left for him.

"All hands, this is General Gray. I hope to Lylus the lot of you are following emergency procedure and have these damn things turned on."

_"General Gray, you saucy devil you!" _Wyatt's voice crackled over the radio, as chipper as ever.

A collective sigh of relief came up at the sound of his voice, and General Gray allowed himself a smile. "I was wondering when you'd get a hold of us. Where are you?"

_"Down in Hangar Bay 1 in my department with Ulie Darkpaw. We had to pull Terrany out of the elevator the old fashioned way. What's the situation?"_

"I'm ordering all non-essential personnel to load up on the transports. That includes you and your team, got it?"

_"…Frick. How much time do I have?"_

"Not enough, Toad, so don't waste time trying to load up all your tools. Just take the important ones."

_"They're all important ones!"_

The General rolled his eyes. "Get those transports powered up and running, and prepare for visitors. All hands, if you're listening in, make your way to Hangar Bays 1 and 2, and get on the transports. Only essential personnel are to remain!"

* * *

The remaining fighters reacted quickly to the new threat, swerving free of their engagements and whirling in on towards Ursa Station.

The momentary lapse that passed while they disengaged gave Dana the window she needed to catch her own more stubborn pursuers off guard, braking sharply and banking starboard. The two fighters flew past her, and she grinned wide enough to bare her fangs as she pulled the trigger. One took a few dents, and nearly crashed into its wingman before getting clear. "Let's see how YOU like it for a change!" She snarled.

Out on the fringe, Milo let his own pursuers break off and change course. The raccoon let out a sigh of relief and got his bearings back. "Those fighters are after you, Terrany. As for the carrier…"

Rourke was already gearing towards the inbound fighters, and used the momentary relief to focus. His Arwing's engines powered down, and the secondary wings popped free as he finally entered Merge Mode. "Don't go giving them any ideas. This frequency's not safe."

Terrany let out an exasperated groan, charging up her homing shot. "It should be. Can't we encrypt it any further?"

"If we get out of this alive, you can ask Wyatt yourself. And move fast, McCloud. Merge Mode's not a joyride."He hadn't said it, but Terrany was well aware of the 5 minute limiter, and the growing strain. Barely 20 seconds in, she could already feel a few neurons starting to hyperstimulate.

Five fighters converged on Terrany from all directions, and Rourke let out a hiss. "Damnit, you pissed them off."

Terrany harrumphed, and spun her entire Arwing in a lazy arc. The nose cannon glowed with furious white light, and inside of her mind and the interlinked computer, targeting reticles exploded across the sky…five positive lock-ons. "Don't worry, Rourke." She replied, giving the mental command to fire. A homing burst shot out, then split apart into five smaller orbs that tracked to the separate targets. The resulting clouds of laserlight vaporized the fighters before they could even get a shot off. "I've got them covered."

Rourke let off a sharp, quick laugh, and turned his craft upwards. "I see somebody's been reading the manual on the multi-lock!"

Milo cut in on the frequency, his voice level, but tense. "Hate to break up the party, but that carrier's starting to move again…I think it's coming in for the kill."

Terrany turned her attention to the uplink between their Arwings, and saw, through Milo's nose camera and his radar, the approaching alien behemoth. Her hand tensed on the throttle unconsciously. "What kind of armament is it carrying?"

"Give me a second…I'll scope it."Came Milo's answer. The rest of the fighters started to buzz for Ursa's upper decks, and Terrany and Rourke swept in with covering fire. The white hot Nova Lasers did the trick of scaring them off, but Terrany heard the warnings from the opened blue pods. The Multi-Lock had been effective, but it had also strained the circuitry. If she didn't allow the capacitors time to recover, she'd suffer an overload and a blowout…and given that the power matrices ran right through the G-Diffusers, she wasn't about to risk it. Precious seconds ticked by, and the heat readings finally dipped to an acceptable level. To add to the bonus, Milo returned over the speakers. "Guys, that ship's packing enough missiles to level a shielded airbase! And I'm reading more fighters getting prepped for launch!"

Dana let out a groan. "Unbelievable. From bad, to worse."

Terrany flew beside Rourke's Arwing, and turned her head to look at him. "Well? What's your call, O'Donnell?"

Inside his own cockpit, the wolf let out a long sigh. "Jeez, I hate this job. Divide and conquer. Terrany, you fly out to Milo and deal with that Carrier. Dana, fall back to the station. We can't let them wreck our home any further!"

Terrany's Arwing spun out in the other direction. "I copy. And watch yourself, O'Donnell."

"You just worry about your own tail, Terrany. I've been flying in these Seraphs longer than you have."

The two Merged Seraphs separated and streaked in opposite directions, with opposite goals. As the remaining fighters dove for Ursa and more began to pour out of the inbound carrier, it became clear that Seraph Flight's momentary reprieve had come to a bitter end.

Nothing set things into perspective quite as clearly as a timer readout that Terrany and KIT both experienced.

**4 minutes and 12 seconds before separation. **

**

* * *

  
**

_Hangar Bay 1_

True to General Gray's orders, the station's personnel dropped down to Ursa's launch bays on ropes dropped down the shaft cables, which were an outdated, but retained backup technology. The ones who hit Hangar Bay 1 had a slightly easier time of getting through thanks to Wyatt and Ulie's prior door wrenching. From there, it was a quick dash to the two waiting cargo transports left about the launch bay, which were slowly beginning to power up.

Ulie waved them through the back hatch of the first transport, flailing his arm like their lives depended on it. And the trick was, it did. The station shuddered under a few more strafing shots from the alien fighters.

"Come on, people, let's move it!" Ulie hollered, cringing as the lights flickered again. "Damn…"

He looked back inside for his leader, Wyatt. The frog wasn't anywhere to be seen in the droves of the transport. "Damn. Hey, has anyone here seen Wyatt Toad?"

A bleary-eyed squirrel motioned outside the transport. "I saw him running for the second cargo hopper down the way earlier." Ulie nodded and took off running.

He found the amphibian on board the second transport, which a carrier pilot had just opened up for boarding. Wyatt had the ship's midpoint belly maintenance access door opened, and a tangle of wires spread about him. His spacesuit was discarded in a nearby pile.

"Chief, what are you doing?" Ulie moaned. "We've gotta get ready to escape, we don't have time to fiddle and make modifications!"

Wyatt pulled a screwdriver out of his mouth and glowered at his protégé. "Listen, furball, these cargo transports were never meant to support atmospheric conditions for as many people as we've got coming in. I'm making some patchwork adjustments so we don't choke to death."

Ulie's eyes widened. "Where are you pulling the extra power from?"

Wyatt didn't mince his words. "Sublight thrusters." He twisted a pair of wires together and hissed when a spark flared in the air and jolted him. "Shit!" He dropped the connection from his twitching grasp and leaned towards the cockpit. "I told you to shut OFF the power conduits!"

The pilot looked back apologetically. "I did! It must be a residual charge, Wyatt!"

"Residual, my ass." Wyatt muttered, sticking his singed hand into his mouth and sucking on it. Ulie wrinkled his nose at the frog-flavored ozone and shook his head.

"So you're sacrificing speed for oxygen."

"I wasn't about to give up the shields." Wyatt quivered, pulling his hand free. "These things aren't exactly sports models to begin with, and our cargo pilots aren't daredevil aces. Did you finish loading the tools I picked out?"

"Yeah, boss."

Wyatt grunted and started to splice another cable. "All right. You see what I'm doing here?"

Ulie stared at his superior's handiwork. "…Reinforcing the power conduits to the CO2 scrubbers?"

"Bingo." Wyatt looked up again. "And I need you to do it on the other transport."

Ulie swallowed. "How much time do I have?"

Wyatt croaked bitterly and got back to work. "The usual, for us engineers. Not enough."

"Shit." Ulie took off in a blaze of black fur.

Wyatt checked his digital watch. He'd started it shortly after seeing Terrany finally trigger Merge Mode.

3 minutes and 18 seconds.

"Hurry it up, McCloud." Ursa Station shook around them, and Wyatt got jolted again. "Gah! Son of a _BITCH!"_

_

* * *

  
_

_Cornerian Space Command, Corneria City_

Following the Aparoid Invasion a little more than 50 odd years ago, the Cornerian military had begun an unparalleled buildup. That had resulted in several major changes in the Lylat System, but a very large one was an intricate communications network that allowed near-instantaneous transmissions through the layer of subspace that warp gate travel passed in. Through that network of satellites, data relays, and outbound sensors, there was very little that the hierarchy was not aware of.

It came as a shock, then, when the uplink to Ursa Station suddenly blinked off and signaled an unexpected disconnect.

The monitoring agent on duty responded quickly and with emotional detachment. He reached a hand up to his headset and toggled the talk switch. "I have loss of connection with Ursa Station in Sector X."

His headset crackled back from the officer of the watch, eight meters away from him. _"Roger. Try a buffer reset."_

The agent pulled up a menu and reset the interstellar feed that Ursa reported on. It was a routine fix.

The connection stayed dead. The monitoring agent frowned. "That didn't do it, sir. We have a complete loss of signal."

The officer sighed over the headset and came over. He set his paw on the back of the agent's chair and leaned in to look at the display. "The station itself is outdated, but their communication relay shouldn't be giving them much grief." He frowned, then shook his head. "Ah. What assets do we have nearby?"

"We have a deep space radar station at Fichina." The agent replied, bringing up a map and tapping the planetary icon for Fichina. The view scrolled in, and a line of statistics appeared over a blip on the sphere. "They might be able to get us a reading."

"Go ahead and have them route a scan of the area to us." The officer instructed. A few keystrokes and a query later, the radar station on Fichina maneuvered itself to stare at the new coordinates, and transmitted the signal to Space Command.

Dumbstruck, they saw two distinct blips and a host of smaller specks. Ursa Station, smaller spacecraft or debris, and…

Something else. Something shaped like a ship.

"What in blazes…" The officer of the watch tapped his headset toggle. "Flight, do we have any patrols scheduled out by Ursa Station?"

_"Negative, sir."_

The officer scowled and chewed on his lower lip. "We've lost communication, they're not reporting in…and we've got unknown targets out there."

He hit his mike again. "Flight, I want you to route a squadron of K-Arwings out to Ursa Station. I don't care how."

_"…Right away, sir."_

The officer exhaled and tapped the monitoring agent on the shoulder. "I need to go make a call quick. Hold down the fort for a minute."

The agent turned around, tension in his voice and fear in his eyes. "Sir? What's going on?"

The officer took a step back and glanced around the command room. All normal activity had gone hushed or silent. Every free set of eyes was looking at him. There would be no mincing words. He took a breath, and said what he had to.

"I think Ursa Station is under attack."

* * *

_Outside Ursa Station_

Fused with his ODAI, Rourke felt the battlefield around him more keenly than he ever could on his own. It was what gave him the edge for the moment, and allowed him to direct Dana.

"Dana, they're coming around again. Ten o' Clock high!"

The tigress let out a grim chuckle and aimed herself towards the inbound fighters. "I see 'em. Bomb is away!" A rocket of red light shot out from the launcher on her Arwing's belly, then exploded into a fireball, incinerating the pack. "Hoowah, that got 'em!"

"None too shabby." Rourke remarked, swiveling about and skewering a bandit that had tried to sneak up on them from behind. "You got things over here?"

"I think I can handle myself. They're not flying smart. You've spooked them."Dana rolled away for show, and started charging her lasers for the next shot.

Rourke maneuvered himself towards the station's topside. "They may not be flying smart, but they don't need to. They've already hit one generator. They take out the other…"

"And we don't have a station left to defend, I know."

Rourke depressed his firing trigger and powered up a charge shot. Another set of four fighter craft were coming in at odd angles. One quick turn by his G-Negator powered Arwing gave him four distinct locks. He fired, and _felt_ each one track in. Each shot dusted its target.

"I think we're starting to thin their numbers!"Dana called out when Rourke's four vanished from radar. Before the wolf could agree, a chilling rebuttal came in over the line.

"I wouldn't count your chickens just yet."Milo Granger answered laconically. "The carrier managed to launch another wave."

"Blast!" Terrany scowled. Even at her heightened G-Negator enhanced speed, she hadn't been able to reach the carrier in time to prevent the second barrage of fighters from launching. To make matters worse, she was now staring down the sights of a dozen impact missiles the carrier had launched immediately after. Each one tracked in towards her. Had she not been in Merge Mode, dodging the projectiles would have been impossible. As it was, it was only marginally nerve-wracking.

The voice of KIT filled her head. **You can do more than dodge. You're not limited by the normal parameters of flight here. Just turn the entire ship around instead of thinking forward. You're like a gyroscope. Hitting the missiles should be easy, if you can do that.**

Terrany weaved between two close shots, glad that they needed a direct impact to cause any damage. Like a top spinning in place, the Arwing tilted itself at an oblique angle and spat out white fire. Two missiles perished quickly.

The damage was done, though. Unmolested, the second wave of alien fighters passed underneath her and shot towards Ursa. "Damn it all! Milo, can you tag them?"

"They're out of range, and I couldn't reach them in time."Milo replied. A few more well-aimed shots from the raccoon knocked out enough of the missiles that Terrany started to breathe easier. "Hurry up with your playthings, Terrany! We've got to take out that Carrier, and quick!"

"Tell me something I don't know." Terrany replied, spinning around again and destroying the last of the silvery darts. She righted herself and shot towards the Carrier, with Milo right on her tail.

They finally closed into effective weapons range, and the Carrier opened up with a tremendous barrage of defense guns.

"Damn, this ship's got some teeth!"Milo yelped, veering off to port to dodge the dangerous stream of flak. Terrany maneuvered starboard, knowing full well that they had reason to be worried. Their shields could deflect spatial debris with ease, and even sustain a good pounding of laserfire or burst radiation, but high impact projectiles were a definite weakness. Even with the ablative armoring the Arwing carried, it still relied more on speed than durability to protect it.

Using the Seraph's camera, Terrany spotted the forward cannons. They were well hidden, protected by a portion of the ship's overhanging superstructure. It would take a direct hit to knock them out. Anything else, she wagered, would just bounce right off.

"Milo, I've got an idea." She blinked her eyes, and transmitted a duplicate image of the magrail turrets. "I sent you an image file. Have your ODAI overlay it onto your HUD, and follow me in. You'll need a clear shot at a flat angle, but you should be able to hit those turrets."

"You're becoming a better pilot."Milo chuckled. "ODAI's got your upload…Aha. Yeah, they're pretty well covered."

"Can you hit it?"

"Affirmative, McCloud. I'm following your lead. And remember, you can't take much abuse yourself."

KIT's voice came as quickly as her own, starting a conversation that lasted no longer than a heartbeat. _I'd say four or five good lucky hits, and our shields will drop._

_**Can't you increase them?**_

_How? The G-Negators suck down an incredible amount of power to run. We don't got jack to spare!_

_**Maybe…sacrifice our weapons?**_

_Negative, McCloud. Even if it wasn't a dumb idea, your Nova lasers and G-Bombs are tied to the Merge circuitry. It's a failsafe. Just fly careful, and remember you're not a brick wall._

"Here goes nothing." Terrany sighed, swerving about and staring the Carrier down by its nose. "You ready, Milo?"

Milo's Arwing swung in behind Terrany's own fighter, thrusters blazing hot. "Let's do it!"

The carrier must have been listening in, because it opened up with everything that it had. The flak cannons poured deadly shrapnel into their flight path, and another salvo of missiles launched from the back. Unlike the last batch, Terrany's sensors didn't detect a superior tracking sensor package; they were fire and forget.

No words passed between Milo and Terrany; they would have only distracted them from the task at hand. While Milo charged his laser and bided his time, Terrany kept herself positioned in front of him. Keeping her forward momentum, she arched her Arwing up and blasted away at the missiles. Altering their path had spared them the brunt of the flak, but the shields rippled and rattled the ship nonetheless.

**73.16 percent shield power remaining. Caution advised.**

Terrany unconsciously gripped the flight yoke tighter, mentally guiding her Arwing to finish off the missiles. To her credit, not a single one made it past her. One managed to strike her, though, and whittled away more of her precious defenses.

_**Creator damn it all, I didn't think we'd be facing down a capital ship…**_

_Neither did the designers when they thought up Merge Mode. It's an invention to improve dogfighting superiority. But you've still got more shielding on you than any Arwing that ever came before._

They were 200 meters out. But was it close enough?

"Almost…little farther…"Milo said slowly, goading them on. Terrany started a groan and kept going, taking a few more shots across her nose that made her shields flare in brilliant light. "NOW!" Milo cried out, and Terrany threw herself clear of his line of fire in a brilliant spin. Even as he let go of his own shot, she lanced several bursts of Nova Laserfire against the bristling enemy carrier. To her relief, no shields glimmered to deflect the shots, and her blows burned into the superstructure.

Underneath her and to port, Milo smiled as his crosshairs stayed dead straight with the well protected starboard railgun. He pulled the trigger and launched a homing burst, and lobbed several blue hyperlaser shots after it as well. The stream of blue fire cut through the glimmering green sphere and blazed a path of destruction, and the unceasing laserburst followed after, annihilating the ribbons of the turret left behind.

"Direct hit!" Terrany whooped, even as Milo swung himself into a sharp turn and aimed for the port gun. A similar display knocked both of the ship's fangs out of commission, and Milo finally allowed himself a chuckle.

"Two for two. I'll take that." A barrage of less powerful, but more annoying laserfire came at them from the rows of laser banks mounted on the carrier's outer plating, and Milo and Terrany swerved away to get clear of the dangerous storm. "I don't suppose you've got an idea of where I can stuff my next few shots, Terrany?"

Terrany flew backwards, but kept her nose pointed towards the carrier and her lasers firing until she finally cleared effective range. "Well, I'd have to get another good…LOOK OUT!"

Milo grunted in surprise and swerved his head around on his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely make out the carrier launching a single canister from the bridge in their direction…

And then everything went white.

They weren't dead, though. His canopy darkened half a second later, quashing the residual flash, but coming too late to prevent the worst damage. He couldn't see, and it felt like his eye sockets were on fire. His Arwing wasn't complaining about any dramatic explosions, thankfully. "Damn it! ODAI, what in blazes was that?!"

**"Unknown enemy projectile produced a luminescent corona equivalent to 600,000 lumens. Minor radiation damage sustained, nonthreatening to biologics. Warning: May induce blindness."**

"You think?!" Milo hissed, rubbing at his eyes. The beginnings of a tremendous headache were fast in coming. "Damnit! ODAI, autopilot!" He let go of the yoke, and the Arwing leveled off and began to make a slow, steady loop. "Terrany, I can't see a damn thing!"

"My eyes aren't much better, and that burst overloaded my Arwing's cameras, too!" Terrany shouted back. "But I still can see with radar…erecting a three-dimensional outlay." A moment passed. "Damn, never thought I'd be glad to be hooked up to a machine. Okay, I'm good for now. Milo, can you fight?"

"Negative, McCloud. I've got a headache that could split a tree, and I _still_ can't see a damn thing."

Terrany looked back to the alien carrier through her dimensional radar overlay, and found a new reason to worry. "Milo…I think we're in trouble."

Still in tremendous pain, Milo grit his teeth. "Great. Why? What are they doing now?"

"You should be able to see for yourself in a minute, once your eyes clear up." Terrany's voice was quiet, almost shocked through the distortion. "It doesn't look like a carrier anymore."

"What do you mean, Teri?"

Terrany tried to use her eyes, and saw brilliant obscuring spots. The canopy dimmer's timer still needed some work. "I mean, it's changing shape. It's looking more like a…"

"A what?"

The carrier finished modifying itself…It had grown legs, arms, and the command deck had shifted up to become the head. The carrier's launch bay was embedded in the left arm…Ending in a gun barrel.

Terrany's radar view, spoonfed directly into her fully active brain, told a very grim story. There were no more crewed fighters to be launched. There was, however, a very menacing energy capacitor and focusing array sliding into place inside the hangar/gun barrel. Her throat started to go dry.

"It just turned into a 200 meter high mecha."

* * *

One of the few remaining technicians in the control room of Ursa Station pulled his hands away from the wiring of his radio console, then looked over to General Gray. "I think I've got it working again, sir. But all I can give you is short range. Our long range communications are absolutely fried."

"So no calling for help." The General mused, reaching to his seat and hitting the comm switch. "Seraph Flight, this is Ursa control, do you read me?"

_"Loud and clear, General!" _Dana Tiger's voice chirped back. _"It's good to hear your voice again. I thought we'd lost you for a bit." _

General Gray took a look around. His bridge crew, dwindled by the evacuation, now consisted of himself, a captain, two technicians, and one very fidgety medic who was still tracking Seraph Flight's biometrics. "We've been better. We just got our radios back, and that's only short range."

_"General, we're not done yet." _Rourke interjected grimly. _"There's another fourteen enemy fighters closing in on Ursa right now, and Terrany and Milo have their hands full with the Carrier. I think…" _He paused for a moment, then found the nerve to continue. _"I think you'd better order an evacuation."_

The General stood up from his chair, and clamped his pipestem between his teeth again. "Way ahead of you, O'Donnell. We began evacuations minutes ago."

_"Then finish them." _The de facto leader of Seraph Flight added bitterly. _"Everybody, including you, sir."_

"Your concern is noted, son. Good luck."

_"Godspeed."_

General Gray flipped the channel off, and looked to his technician. "Do I have internal communications?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Slag it." The old hound grumbled. "Forget it, then." He pulled up his handheld radio. "Attention, ALL personnel. This is General Gray. I'm advancing the evacuation to full status. Everybody, get down to one of the Hangar Bays and cram yourself in a cargo shuttle!"

His radio crackled. _"General, this is Dr. Bushtail. I'm down in Hangar Bay 1 with Wyatt."_

"Can I talk to him?"

_"You tell him I'm busy working a few minor miracles, and he can piss off!" _Wyatt's irritated warble rumbled in the background. A moment later, an embarrassed Sherman Bushtail came back.

_"I apologize, General. We're all a little uptight here."_

The General offered a half smile and followed the rest of his bridge crew out the door and towards the elevator shafts to Hangar Bay 2. "Understandable. What did you need?"

_"Sir, I've been monitoring the Merge Data on Miss McCloud, and…Sir, her adaption is outstanding."_

"So what's the problem?"

_"The problem is, she's never de-Merged before…and if I'm reading the data right, her optic nerves are currently shot to Hell. The only reason she's still flying is because she's using the ship's sensors as her eyes. But as soon as she slips out of Merge Mode, then…"_

The General knew full well about the downside that came afterwards. The current conditions only made it worse.

His bridge crew slid down the cables of the elevator shaft and began their descent. General Gray lingered outside, and raised the radio up one last time.

"How much longer does she have?"

_"One minute…and twenty seconds."_

The General pursed his lips, and slid the radio into his coat pocket, placing his smoking pipe beside it soon after. He slid down the elevator cable without another word.

They suddenly didn't have time for them.

* * *

"They're coming in hot, Rourke! I'm moving to intercept up high!"

"And I'll go low." Rourke told Dana, swooping in a course towards the underside of the newest pack of fighters. The maneuver was meant to pick them apart in a crossfire, and it seemed to be working at first. The two fighters leading the attack succumbed quickly enough, but the rest steered clear and split apart into two groups. "Looks like they want to play."

Dana tried to swing around behind them, but the first group had taken a bead on her, and started firing before she could squeeze off a shot. "Shoot! Rourke!"

"I see them, I'm coming!" Rourke O' Donnell snapped. He shot his fighter skywards and took aim on the pack hot on her tail…

And then promptly got shot apart himself, from the second group that had flown around. "Son of a…They're playing us, Tiger!" He managed to loose a quick volley of Nova laserfire and cut down one of Dana's pursuers, and she threw herself into a loop to cut behind the survivors. The alien fighters fired their retros, and Dana shot by them before she could line up her reticle.

"Damnit! Rourke, I can't break free!"

Inside his cockpit, Rourke ground his teeth together. "Just hang on." His Arwing spun about and scattered a flurry of white hot laserfire, cutting down another ship and sending the others scattering for their lives. Still spinning about like a top, he lined himself up with Dana's pursuers and hit them hard. One trailed off, smoking a trail of vapor into the void before it succumbed to its injuries and exploded in a brilliant fireball. The other spun clear in time to avoid the debris and rallied towards Rourke, firing off its munitions.

All of his Seraph's radar warning signals went off, and six small impact missiles blazed fast towards him. "These things have missiles?!" He roared, rocketing up and past them. The missiles turned and tracked in, following him at a speed that rivaled his own. "Let's see how you like this, then!" Rourke snarled, and his Arwing suddenly skipped in an entirely different direction. The maneuver didn't cause the missiles to fall away…they still followed.

"Dana, I've got trouble here." Rourke's voice clipped in. His teeth clamped harder when the radar showed that the other fighters were closing on him as the dominant threat. "I could use some backup! Get these missiles off my tail!"

"I'm coming!" Dana answered, and a green laserburst rushed up underneath him and exploded in his wake. The energy rattled the inbound projectiles, causing three to detonate early. The last three flew through the wash and slammed into his Arwing's starboard wing, severing it clean off. His port wing's secondary fins drew back into the main wing in response.

"Frick!" Rourke swore, and his Arwing stumbled off to the side. "I've been hit! G-Diffusion systems are going haywire…I think that jolt overloaded the Negator Drive. The safety just kicked in, I'm de-merging!"

Inside her own cockpit, Dana hissed angrily, mad at herself for failing to catch all the missiles. "We never tested these things with sheared wings, did we?" She asked acerbically.

"Well, they're getting a test now." Rourke's voice was drawn tight. "We've got five fighters left up here, I'm crippled, and you're not doing too much better." He paused, and his tone hardened. "Dana, get back to Ursa."

"What? But Rourke, you've got three…"

"Two of the fighters just broke off. They're headed for the last primary generator." Rourke cut in.

Dana shut her eyes for a moment, then pulled back on her thrusters and threw her Seraph into a U-Turn. "Don't die on me, O'Donnell." She blasted clear of the melee and towards Ursa Station proper…and the two fighters, glimmering like tiny silver stars in the glow of Sector X.

Rourke stared through his own eyes…and his own eyes alone. There was a flicker of familiar pain across his forehead, but he held off the usual effects that came with de-merging.

**Shield strength reduced to 48 percent. Nova lasers offline. Extensive damage to starboard wing. G-Negation field functioning at reduced capacity. G-Bomb launcher disengaged. Merge Mode disengaged. Seek immediate repair. **

"Not happening today." He muttered, answering both Dana and his own ODAI in one simple sentence. Rourke turned his crippled Arwing about and started to charge up his hyper lasers for a homing shot. "Now, come on, you bastards. Who wants to die first?"

* * *

It was only by the grace of Terrany's connection to the ship's sensors that she was able to respond in time. The converted enemy carrier ship raised up its left arm and the hangar that looked like a barrel on a gun. Even before Milo could shout out the warning, the Seraph's sensors detected the rapid buildup of energy within, and Terrany broke hard right.

A massive laser beam ripped through the space behind her, and trailed her for several seconds before it cut off.

"Okay, new plan." Terrany gasped, when she could breathe again. "Milo, that thing's got a bunker-buster laser installed in the hangar arm!"

"Blast it…I'm a sitting duck out here. Odai, autopilot, and start talking to me!" A pause followed, then he spoke up again. "Oh, geez. Give me the energy out…Lylus, that frigging much?"

Terrany mentally rolled her eyes, realizing she was only hearing one half of the conversation happening in Milo's cockpit. "I don't suppose you've got any good news? Helpful suggestions?"

"Odai's telling me that the carrier's energy output dropped significantly when it fired that shot at you. My guess is that it's going to take it a while to build up steam again for another burst, so you should have some time to do some damage, provided that…"

"Provided that what?"

_Hey kid, it just launched some drone fighters at us! _KIT interrupted, and the radar view showed a handful of blips disengaging from the thing's shoulders.

"Provided that it doesn't give you something else to keep your hands tied until then." Milo finished.

Terrany growled and swung about. "Perfect." _**Why didn't you tell me all that about the laser, Kit?**_

_My job's to make a better flier out of you. Mechanics aren't my thing. _

"Terrany, I'm going to patch Odai through the radio, okay?"

Terrany lined herself up behind a pair of the aerial drones and roasted them with a quick burst from her cannons. "Roger, go ahead."

_"Pilot McCloud, it is pleasant to speak with you again." _ODAI's digitized voice came over her helmet's speakers. _"Based on the enemy carrier's energy readings I took during the firing sequence, I believe I can give you a countdown to its next shot."_

"Terrific." Terrany replied, flipping her Arwing nose up and bouncing backwards. She lined her nose up with two more drones coming in at her from above and exchanged a barrage of fire with them. Two more bars dropped off her deflector shield readings, but they were dusted. "So how much time do I have?"

_"Approximately…twenty seven seconds. Twenty-six. Twenty-five."_

Terrany cut off the speaker feed with a thought. _**Kit, keep counting, but do it quietly.**_

_Twenty-three, twenty-two…_

_**I said quietly!**_

_I am doing it quiet…oh._

_**…We can't even have our own thoughts?**_

_Guess not, McCloud. But you can do this. Remember that training run we had? This isn't the first time we've fought something that used a recharging superweapon._

_**That's hardly encouraging.**_

Terrany reactivated the speakers, and let Milo's Odai do the timing. It was annoying, but not quite as disturbing .

The drone fighters were numerous, but flying in synch with KIT and the Seraph's own sensors, Terrany blazed through them with terrifying efficiency. A few quick barrel rolls kept their pestering shots from causing any more damage to her. The last of them died with a whimper, and Terrany turned her attention on the mecha. It swatted at her with its free hand, and the two laser guns on its head hurled out a cloud of destruction. All of it was easily avoided, and Terrany dropped down towards the gun barrel.

_"Five. Four." _Came ODAI's calm voice.

Terrany lined up the targeting reticle of her digital HUD and accessed the weapons controls. It was no longer a matter of just seeing the angle of attack…She knew it.

_"Three."_ As she rocketed towards the hangar, the Arwing's camera picked up the image of a large turret charging up. A locus of light glowed from the weapon's focusing coils. Terrany pulled the trigger, and launched a G-Bomb. Unlike the others she'd fired on the course, this one was partially charged.

_"Two."_ ODAI kept counting, and Terrany maintained her course. She needed the gun to stay level with her attack axis. The G-Bomb would only get one shot to hit before they got wise, after all.

_"One."_ Her projectile streaked into the hangar bay, hard and fast.

_Job's done, McCloud. Let's bail! _KIT exclaimed.

_**I won't argue against that.**_ Terrany agreed, and the Seraph jetted hard down.

_"Zero."_

The massive laser cannon fired, but went barely a quarter of a second before it abruptly stopped.

At a distance, Terrany watched as the hangar was filled with a menacing purple light. Like an invisible hand had crushed it, the mecha's hangar gun imploded inwards for three blinks, then shattered apart and vaporized in a brilliant red fireball.

Terrany couldn't think of anything to say. KIT whistled, but kept silent at the sight. What was left of the mecha's arm sparked furiously, and it retreated a quarter kilometer from Terrany.

_"Pilot McCloud, I am detecting fluctuations in the enemy craft's power readings. It is possible your bomb's detonation caused their control systems to destabilize."_

"Which means what?"

_"One moment."_ ODAI replied, and then a new linkup connected to the Seraph. A thermal image of the carrier mecha overlayed on top of the dimensional radar picture. Terrany and KIT both saw a redder than normal section behind the armor on its chest. _"If my readings are right, then that high temperature area is where the ship's main power core is located. You might be able to disable the ship by concentrating your fire at that point."_

"Provided my Nova lasers are strong enough to get through that armor." Terrany said that even as she boosted towards the mecha to re-engage.

"Don't lose your head, Terrany." Milo urged her. "Be careful!"

Terrany swerved about the mecha's leg when it swung up to strike at her. "I'll try."

_Hey, McCloud, we've only got 42 seconds of Merge left._

_**Then let's make it count!**_

The Nova lasers sent a vibration through the ship when they belched white fire, and the mecha trembled under the onslaught. Terrany stitched a pattern of impacts across the thing's chest, and it launched a barrage of impact spheres. She weaved through the storm and fired again, keeping the bolts on target this time.

_**We can do this. We can take this thing down!**_

_Don't let up now! _KIT urged, even as the carrier mecha released a blitz of low-energy plasmafire against the Seraph's shields. _Keep pouring it on, no matter what!_

Even though they both pressed the attack, a corner of Terrany's mind kept track of the heat readings on the Nova laser's capacitors.

They were fast approaching red.

* * *

Rourke had certainly had better days…But, he reminded himself as the fighters still swarmed around him, he'd had worse. Despite being badly outnumbered and flying in a crippled fighter, he'd doggedly kept pace with the first of the three. That patience, strained by too many barrel rolls, close calls, and even more damage, finally won out when his HUD beeped at him, and the red lock-on reticle appeared around his prey.

"One." He growled, and hit the trigger on his control stick. A green ball of light soared out from his nose and engulfed the target, completely obliterating it.

A hail of laserfire streaked by his canopy, and Rourke threw his Arwing into a loop.

_"Hell of a day, right?" _His ODAI commented.

"Nobody asked you." Rourke shot back, grinning in spite of himself. The AI was certainly capable of learning through continued interaction, and it had picked up some of his own sarcastic wit. The Arwing shuddered under another missile impact, and his smile faded. "Blasted…"

He broke out of the loop and threw his ship into a barrel roll. Another projectile bounced off of the gravitic deflector field and spun into the void, and Rourke drew his bearings again. One closing in behind, and the other bearing at two o' clock on his right.

"Debt's repaid after this, Skip." Rourke muttered, and lined up his ship. "Odai, how's our shields?"

_"They've been better. You're not planning on…"_

"It's the best option right now."

_"One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed, and I'll have to be around and watch you do it."_ His AI berated him.

"Not today." Rourke replied, charging up his laser and drawing a lock on the fighter in front. He held it, not firing…and as expected, the other closed in hard and fast, blazing away. "Not when things are just getting interesting. Ready the ship for heat damage!"

Rourke barrel-rolled as best as he could to maintain the shot-distorting gravitic field, but not every round his pursuer fired bent around the Arwing's gravitational aura. His shields dipped lower and lower, but he held off.

_"Rourke, we're at 24 percent. If the shields are below 20 when that bomb goes off, we'll…"_

"I know, I know!" Rourke shouted, silencing the AI. "What's the distance of the fighter behind us?"

_"Seventy meters and closing fast."_

"That's close enough, then. Firing!" Rourke thumbed the bomb release, and a red streak of light shot out from under the Arwing's nose. It tracked in on the first fighter and exploded in a plume of blue and red light. The canopy darkened as he flew into the thick of the storm, but Rourke shut his eyes anyhow on instinct.

The maneuver would have been suicide with the Smart Bomb's ancestor, the Nova Bomb. It would have definitely been suicide with a G-Bomb. But by the grace of refined shielding and harmonic frequencies, Rourke's Arwing remained nearly untouched when they flew through the fireball.

The same couldn't be said of his pursuer.

Rourke's Arwing blasted clear on the other side of the sphere of annihilation, with his shield warning system screaming at him. "Give me the good news, Odai."

_"All engaged bandits…splashed. No residual radar footprint."_

Rourke sunk back into the seat of his cockpit, and realized he'd been sweating the entire time. "Damage?"

_"Shields at 10 percent and holding. We're baked, O'Donnell."_

"That usually happens when you give your all." Rourke sighed in agreement. He triggered the talk switch on his helmet's transceiver. "This is Rourke. All bandits in my sector destroyed, but I'm dead in the water. How's it coming with the rest of you?"

_"Milo here. I'm blind, and Terrany's fighting the carrier on her own. Doing a damn good job of it, but we're running out of time. We might need some help here."_

"Perfect." Rourke grumbled. "Dana, you got those fighters cleaned up yet?"

Silence.

"Dana? Dana, respond!"

* * *

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this, Dana's mind raced.

She had taken out the first of the two halfway on the trek to Ursa with a homing shot. The second, though, had been infuriatingly spry, dodging her laserfire and breaking lock after lock with one aerobatic twist and turn after another. All the while, they'd closed in on Ursa, until they were nearly crashing into the space station's topmost dome. The alien fighter had tried to line up for a shot on the last surviving power generator on the dome, and Dana had kept it moving, even firing a few loose shots into Ursa's dying shield to keep the skittish fighter away.

Neither had had a clear advantage, and their spins and loops kept them from drawing a bead. Then one last turn had sent Dana clear of the fighter's flight path…

And gave it a clear angle to the generator.

"NO!" Dana screamed, and boosted her ship forward. The alien fighter was already closing in, getting ready to fire. She couldn't get behind it, and she couldn't land a shot in time. A bomb wasn't an option, since it would take out everything around them too. With none of that possible, she did the only thing she could think of…

Dana Tiger burned her boosters at maximum, and rammed it.

Her Arwing shuddered under the impact, but even though the nose crumpled in on itself, the airframe held up to the abuse. She had no doubt her shields played the largest part in her survival. Ahead of her, she saw her handiwork in a shorn off piece of the fighter, now floating off into space.

She didn't see the rest of it.

"What…"

Dana whirled her head about. What was left of the crippled, dying enemy fighter was careening down towards Ursa. "No!" She screamed again, dumbstruck.

For the first time, she could see inside the cockpit of the craft. A figure was inside…Struggling with the controls. He wasn't trying to pull up, she realized.

"NO!" Dana tried to turn her Arwing around to take aim and disintegrate it, but the move came too late.

The enemy pilot crashed his dying fighter into Ursa Station's last main power generator and died in a massive fireball.

Below, Dana saw a faint shimmer of light first appear, and then vanish from around the station's frame. The shields were gone.

_"Dana? Dana, respond!" _Rourke's voice cut in over the comm line.

Shakily, Dana turned her Arwing around and checked the radar. No more bogies, but the damage was done. "Those bastards got through. Ursa's shield is gone!"

* * *

The carrier mecha shot another burst of plasma at its attacker.

Terrany kept firing.

It sent out another wave of impact spheres, bouncing her Arwing around like a cork in the ocean.

She steadied herself and kept firing.

It launched a stack of burrowing drill missiles.

Terrany weaved around them, defeated their lock, and still kept firing.

As its chestplate started to glow brighter and brighter from the battle damage, it slammed a hand out to knock her from the sky and flew towards her.

Risking the ship's systems, Terrany locked onto the alien ship's weak point, hovered above the charge, whirled about, and fired.

Five dazzling orbs of explosive photonic energy streaked around the mecha's head and slammed home into its chest plate. A tremendous explosion rocked the transformed carrier, and it started to collapse.

_We got it, kid! And none too soon, either. Merge ending in five seconds._

_**Thank the maker. My head's really starting to hurt. **_"Enemy carrier disabled. Clear off, it's going to blow!" Terrany called out, turning her Arwing away from the danger zone.

Her radio crackled, and a strange voice came over the line.

_"The Arwing's base…will not live!" _

_**What?**_

_That transmission came from the enemy ship! _KIT answered her question.

Warning lights flared up, even as the alien carrier began to explode in a chain reaction.

It had launched one last set of missiles.

Cruise missiles. Five of them.

"Shoot!" Terrany cried out, starting to turn her ship around. "Incoming! It's targeting Ursa!"

She didn't make it in time. The missiles escaped the carrier's death fireball, and before Terrany could fire at them…

She and KIT de-merged.

The world filled with pain once more, and Terrany howled in agony. Her eyes were on fire, and she squeezed them shut as incessant throbbing prodded her forehead.

"Oh, shit." Milo uttered, hearing her scream. "Rourke, Terrany just came out of Merge Mode! The missiles got past her!"

_"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" _Rourke called back. The missiles were drawing a straight course for Ursa. _"Dana, get ready! We've got inbounds!"_

_"I thought we were through with this!" _Dana protested.

* * *

Rourke spun his crippled fighter about and targeted the lead missile. They were going too fast for him to lock on in his nearly stationary position. He fired off his last Smart Bomb on an unguided course that would put it just ahead of the missiles and hoped for the best.

They seemed to speed up in response…when his bomb went off, the explosion only took out one, and then they were gone and past him.

"Crap! There's four left! Dana, can you stop them?"

_"I can't stop that many, not now!" _Dana Tiger screamed.

Rourke gnashed his teeth. "Ursa, this is Seraph Flight! Your shields are down, and there are four inbound missiles! If you've got people evacuating to the transports, launch them now!"

_"Rourke, are you…" _The voice of General Gray cut in.

"For the Creator's sake, LAUNCH NOW!" Rourke was bellowing now in terror.

He could do little else but watch as the missiles zoomed in on their home.

There was a flash, and his radar showed one of the missiles disappear under Dana's attack.

The other three made it through.

* * *

It was a picture perfect work of destruction. The missiles impacted, one after another with only momentary delays. Their ordnance would have been enough to destroy Ursa even with full shielding. Without shields, the old station, the top secret outpost that served as home to Seraph Flight and the Seraph Arwings, died quickly.

A rush of debris and light washed out in all directions, momentarily disrupting communications for the buzz of static in the radioactive noise.

Silence fell over Sector X.

* * *

_Arspace Dynamics_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

_5:42 P.M._

For some reason, fly soup sounded especially good tonight. His doctor didn't appreciate when he went off of his diet, but Slippy Toad had always been a troublemaker when it came to taking advice. Giving it, on the other hand…

He walked out of his office, then smiled and waved to his secretary. "You're still here? I thought you had to pick up your kids on the way home."

Evelyn Cloudrunner looked up from her computer and smiled wearily. "I had my husband take them out. I suppose that means leftover pizza tomorrow morning, but I was still working on your schedule for next week."

Slippy rubbed his throat pouch. "One of these days, I ought to give you a raise, Mrs. Cloudrunner."

"Oh, you did." She replied with a smirk.

The elderly Toad laughed. "Not too outlandish, I hope?"

"Just three percent was all." Evelyn answered, winking at him.

"Generous but fair." Slippy nodded. "It's one steep bill, but it's worth it."

The phone at Evelyn's desk rang. She began to reach for it, but Slippy Toad stopped her with a low ribbit. "Let me take this one. You need to shut down and get home."

"Are you sure, sir?" Mrs. Cloudrunner seemed confused.

"Positive!" Slippy picked up the phone receiver and set it to his ear. "President Toad here."

He listened for a few seconds and his smile began to fade. "What?" He leaned forward a bit and held the phone closer. "Whe…But how…Then…" He shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I understand." He hung up the phone without another word.

Evelyn watched him, worried. "What is it? What's happened?"

Slippy set his walking stick on the floor and suddenly seemed to shrivel in on himself. All his years, so long ignored, reappeared. "The station my grandson was working on stopped transmitting data at the same moment a foreign radar signature appeared beside it. The Space Defense Forces believe there are no survivors."

"Oh no." Evelyn gasped. She stood up. "Sir, if there's anything I can do…"

"There's nothing anyone can do now." Slippy answered, and the depth of his words sent a chill through her. He tottered off towards the elevator, slower than ever before. "Nothing at all."

* * *

Dana Tiger flew slowly through the debris field, using minimal thrust and praying she wouldn't come across a body. "This is Dana Tiger…Any survivors, please respond. Repeat, if anyone from Ursa is still alive…"

Farther out, still floating around on autopilot, Milo activated his comm. "Terrany, you all right?"

"I'm…alive." She answered blearily. "I'm in too much pain to not be. My head feels like someone dropped a grenade between my ears."

"That's the downside of Merge Mode…stopping." Milo reassured her. "Your brain's been in overdrive for five minutes, and it's finally slowing down. If it's any consolation, it gets easier the more you do it."

"I'm sure plenty of guys say that when they pop a girl's cherry." Terrany grumbled.

_"Too much information, McCloud." _KIT chirped in. _"Still, I'm sorry it hurt."_

Terrany let out a sigh and sunk into her seat. "I couldn't stop it. Because of me, Ursa Station's gone."

"It's not your fault, kid." Rourke's voice was cold and calm. "These bastards caught us with our shorts down. It's nobody's fault. You took out the enemy carrier by yourself…it's more than I would have asked you to do. More than Skip would. How's your Arwing holding up?"

"Worn out shields, a depleted bomb reserve, but otherwise, I'm fine." Terrany replied. "I just wish I wasn't still seeing spots." Rourke's praise and concern touched her, and she smiled in spite of the migraine.

"You can see spots?" Milo cut in. "I'm still only seeing blobs. Oh, and I'm fine too, Rourke, thanks for asking."

"Cool it, Granger. I know you can watch out for yourself." Rourke shot back. Terrany's pride in Rourke's praise evaporated quickly after that. "Dana, we're all accounted for. Did you find anything?"

The radio crackled, and a familiar, welcome voice cut in. _"General Gray here. That could have gone better, Seraph Flight…but we're safe. Our shields protected us from the explosion's debris. Thanks for the heads up, Rourke."_

"I found them!" Dana let out a whoop, and dove through the debris towards four transport shuttles that were flying clear of the wreckage. "They made it!"

_"Seraph Flight, lock onto my signal and fly in close." _General Gray ordered.

"Roger, sir." Rourke O' Donnell. "Terrany, Milo, switch over to autopilot and let your AIs fly after me. I'll take you in."

"Sounds fine by me, boss." Milo sighed, and his Arwing was soon swinging about to chase after Rourke's beacon.

Terrany shut her eyes and didn't offer a reply.

_"Hey, McCloud…you all right?" _KIT asked quietly.

"Our home's gone, our planes are beaten to Hell, we've got nowhere left to repair, and whoever these aliens are, they got the jump on us before we could stop the invasion."

_"Yeah. But we're all alive." _The AI noted helpfully. _"That counts for something, doesn't it?"_

Terrany reached a hand up to the display panel and flipped it over to autopilot. "Somehow…it's just not enough. Fly us in, Kit."

The AI let out an uncharacteristic sigh, shut up, and did as he was told.

* * *

The eight spacecraft from Ursa Station made a sorry sight. The four transports were overloaded, Rourke's Arwing was a barely functioning mess, and the other three Arwings of Seraph Flight stood like wounded sentinels over the dying. Nobody spoke over the intercoms while General Gray prepared to speak to them. When he did, it was a bombshell.

"The Seraph project is a failure." He stated flatly. His place in the third of the crowded transports kept him from observing the winces and defeated gazes the four Arwing pilots gave to each other. "The enemy caught us completely by surprise. We should have seen it coming…they must have been planning this strike from the beginning."

Dana Tiger cut in on the line. "What do you mean? How could they know?"

The General's voice was unapologetic. "Three weeks ago, one of their scout ships encountered Captain McCloud's craft during speed trials. They must have made a tactical calculation that the base his ship came from had to be eliminated."

"Then we're dealing with some damn smart aliens." Rourke interjected glumly. "Or maybe just some paranoid ones. But how did they track Ursa? We're in the middle of a nebula. Nobody knows we're out here."

Milo cleared his throat. "They already proved in this skirmish that they're capable of interpreting our radio transmissions. If they can do that, it stands to reason they could track them too…And one of the first things they hit, outside the power generators, was our long range communications relay. They didn't want us living to warn Command."

"In other words, men, these aliens just nullified our one wild card for the approaching invasion. By destroying Ursa Station, they've destroyed any chance of us launching a counterattack with Seraph Flight." General Gray let out a long sigh. "Wyatt has informed me that he's rewired these transports to keep the atmosphere breathable. Our resources are limited, however. Our only choice is to set a course for Corneria and pray we can get in radio range before their invasion force arrives."

Terrany had been sitting back listening to it all, and for a very long time she'd been in as horrible a mood as the rest of them. But the more she listened to how easily the invaders had out-schemed, out-thought, and outfought them, the more her blood began to boil. By the time General Gray laid down his orders for retreat, her ears were twitching furiously. Rourke, parked across from her, saw the change in her mood as clear as a bell.

"Terrany, relax. It's not…"

"So that's it, then?" Terrany snapped, silencing Rourke with an angry voice. "We just fly back to Corneria, tails between our legs, and wait to die? What the Hell kind of plan is that?!"

"McCloud, you may not like the order, but you're going to follow it." General Gray growled warningly.

"The Hell I am!" Terrany screamed, ignoring the command. "My brother wouldn't let something like this happen! He'd take the fight to them, he wouldn't quit fighting, no matter what!"

"Listen to yourself!" The General howled. "Ignoring the fact you're bordering on outright insubordination, you're not paying attention to the big picture. They took us out! We lost! There's nothing we can do about it, not with the four of you in the condition you're in, not without a space station we can make repairs at!"

"Terrany, stop this." Milo pleaded. "He's right, there's nothing we can do now. Flying to meet their invasion force in our condition would be suicide."

Terrany shut her eyes, breathing heavily. Rourke glanced through her canopy and let out a long sigh. "Hell. The funny thing is, I agree with her."

"You _what?"_ Dana Tiger repeated incredulously.

"I said, I agree with her."

"That's it. The both of you are going on report when we get back." The General was bitter and exhausted. "You're not thinking straight, either one of you."

"Does it matter, sir?" Rourke asked his CO calmly. "If we don't do something, then all of Lylat's doomed. Creator knows how much firepower they're massing just outside the rim. The fact is, if we don't do _something_, then not only have we failed to live up to the mandate of this program…But Skip's sacrifice will have been for nothing. I can't live knowing I let him down, and I'm pretty damn sure that Terrany would agree."

The General was quiet for a moment, and a new voice cut in over the line.

"Uh, team? This is Wyatt Toad here. Listen, I applaud your bravery, but the fact of the matter is, we have to put your ships into dock for a while. Rourke's Arwing is going to need _major_ repairs, and the rest of you've taken your share of dings from this. Without Ursa, the closest suitable repair stations are back on Corneria."

"By the time we got to Corneria, the invasion fleet will have already arrived." Rourke argued. "It's just not an option. We either fly against them as we are…or we don't do it at all. I'm flying. Terrany, you going?"

Terrany stared back to Rourke through her canopy and nodded, a grim, but trusting expression fixed on her lips. "You bet your fur I am. What about you, Milo? Dana?"

"…This is crazy." Dana muttered, throwing her hands in the air and groaning. "But you're right, damnitall. We have to do this. It's what Skip would do."

"Hmm." Milo mused, stroking his chin. "Well, going or retreating…either would have been fine with me. But as long as you're all planning on committing suicide in the skies, I might as well tag along. Maybe this time I'll remember to close my eyes the next time they launch a flashbomb canister."

"You're all insane." The General tried to argue again. When nobody spoke up, he blew the last of his rage out through his lips. "Fine. If you're going to throw your lives away, you might as well do it by not disobeying orders. This way, I can at least give all of you a posthumous two-rank promotion. Seraph Flight, your last orders are to…"

_"Hang on a second, General."_ KIT suddenly spoke. Terrany turned her head down to her Arwing's control panel and widened her eyes in surprise. _"Just…hang on a second. I think I've got a different idea."_

Terrany blinked. "Kit, what are you…what kind of an idea would you have?"

KIT didn't say anything for a few seconds, and when he did, he said it slowly, as if he was struggling with the thought. _"Wyatt, you there?"_

"Yeah…What do you need?" The heir apparent of Arspace Dynamics was more curious than worried.

_"Would you agree that we'd stand a better chance if we could repair the Arwings?"_

"That's a given, but yes. As beat up as the X-1s are right now, I doubt they could last another dogfight, much less an attack on a fleet of capital ships."

_"But we can't go to Corneria, since they're going to beat us there anyway."_

"Yes." Wyatt agreed, wondering when the AI was going to get to the point.

_"…What if…What if I told you I knew of a place a little closer where we could make repairs?"_

Wyatt laughed. "I'd say you were crazy. You're just a program."

_"Yeah, and you're not as chummy as your grandfather was."_

"Is." Wyatt corrected him, then did a double take. "Wait…what? How would you…"

_"Shut up and listen, Toad. I'm already berating myself for bringing this up. How many wrench turners do you have in your transport with you?"_

"Just in mine? I'm only missing two guys from my team. The rest are in the general's transport." Wyatt was audibly shaken now. He, like everyone listening to the radio, was now asking the same question…

Just what in the blazes was KIT, exactly?

_"General, you and the other two transports should fly for Corneria. If you can get close enough to have them raise the defenses, you should do it. But Wyatt's shuttle needs to come with us."_

"Just what are you driving at?" The General prodded. "Where exactly are you going to go?"

_"The Meteo Asteroid Field." _KIT answered solemnly.

Milo grunted. "Meteo? There's nothing out there but rocks."

_"Just because the Cornerian Space Defense Force never built something in that neck of the woods doesn't mean it's a wasteland." _KIT chirped tersely. _"The asteroid field's always been a terrific place to hide things. Okay, General?"_

"…I'll expect a full report if we survive this." The old hound groused. "All right, then. Seraph Flight, good luck. For better or worse, our fate's in the hands of the AI in Terrany's plane. And Kit? You'd better not be pulling anything funny here. The fate of all Lylat is at stake."

_"Never get tired of hearing that." _KIT said in reply. _"Okay then. Toad, the rest of you, set your ships to track Terrany. I'll set our course."_

"Just one last question, Kit…" Wyatt said, as the other three transports shot off towards Corneria and triggered their FTL drives. "How do you know there's a base out there?"

_"To be precise, it's not a base." _KIT replied cryptically. _"And I know it's there…because it's my damn business. Okay, then. I'm going to switch off the radio channel and let Terrany do the talking for a while. I'm tired of getting picked apart here."_

The radio crackled into silence, and Terrany punched in the coordinates KIT displayed on the Seraph's diagnostics monitor. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and shook her head.

_"Go ahead, McCloud. I know you want to say it, so just say it." _KIT sounded tired when he spoke to her inside the cockpit.

Terrany leaned forward, and pressed her fingertips to the monitor screen. "Just…what are you?"

_"I am what I was made to be." _KIT said reassuringly. _"And nothing more or less."_

"If you're not a program built on the memories of my grandfather, then…"

_"Does it matter?" _KIT shot back, before she could finish it. _"Does it matter what I am, or who I was built from? Is that really what worries you, or are you just afraid of me?"_

"Kit, our…our minds were one for five minutes. Your thoughts were my thoughts. I'm still the same person now. I'm not afraid of you."

_"But you don't think you know me." _KIT observed.

Terrany pressed her lips together and bobbed her head.

_"Give it time, Terrany." _KIT concluded, accepting the coordinates and starting up the FTL drive. _"I was beginning to question if my being here had any purpose at all. Now I see I'm right where I'm needed most."_

"And where's that?"

_"Keeping you alive. Now let your teammates know we're starting. The first part of the jump's always the bumpiest."_

Terrany reached to her helmet and tapped the toggle. "This is Terrany. Everyone set for the jump to lightspeed?"

"Milo here. Ready as I'll ever be."

"Rourke. I guess these things are sturdier than we gave them credit for."

"Dana. I hope wherever you're taking us has the setup to fix the nose on my Arwing. It's messing up my targeting sensors."

"Wyatt and Transport 1 here. It's time to see just what kind of secret your AI's been hiding in the rocks."

Terrany reached up and depressed the switch. "Engaging FTL. All aircraft, on my wing."

Flying on a different course from the rest of Ursa Station's survivors, Seraph Flight and the lone transport shot off on their own mission…praying it wouldn't be their last.


	9. Red Sky at Morning

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER NINE: RED SKY AT MORNING

**G-Diffusion Technology**- Discovered by accident during the Arspace Dynamics "Aegis" project, G-Diffusion was made famous by Beltino Toad fifteen years before the Lylat Wars. This unexpected boon from deflector shield technology created a buoyant diffusive field which largely nullified planetary gravity pull. G-Diffusion technology was first instituted ten years later on the SFX, or Model 1 Arwing. The system remains largely confined to the Arwing line of spacecraft. Miniaturization of parts have made deflector shielding possible for other spacecraft and vehicles. G-Diffuser craft remain difficult to handle for pilots to this day, drawing a clear line between the elite and the average.

**(From Slippy Toad's Margin Scribblings)**

"_**That's something my great grandpa would do, all right. He tries to build an energy shield, and he makes an antigravity unit."**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_Sector X_

_The Debris Field (Ursa Station's Remains)_

They had emerged from the jump with all weapons active and powered up, not knowing what to expect. Their orders hadn't exactly been specific, but caution had been advised. If there was trouble, there wasn't a member of the four-man squadron who expected they couldn't handle it. They _were_ the 21st Squadron, after all, and the three veteran members of the flight had logged more than 100 hours in the Model K Arwing, the pride and joy of the Cornerian Space Defense Forces. Something was wrong at Ursa Station, that much they could tell. What kind of trouble had yet to be determined, but the 21st Squadron had made a reputation on dealing with the unknown.

What they saw was something none of them had expected...and it produced a hush in their normally chipper voices when they flew over the graveyard.

Captain Lars Hound looked down at the wreckage and bit his tongue.

"Cap…there's nothing left." His first wingman, Argen Quail whispered. The avian was the wiseguy of the set, and his uncharacteristic sorrow only made them feel worse.

Captain Hound swung down, keeping his voice firm. "Fan out. Search for survivors."

The 21st Squadron split apart and flew off in different directions, getting as close to the debris field without diving into it. For ten minutes, they used their scopes and their eyes, until they had only one conclusion to make.

"Pull it in, people." Captain Hound exhaled. "There's nothing else we can do here."

The Arwings yanked free of the debris and soared up and away. Against the backdrop of the blue nebulous cloud that gave the Sector its name, the 21st Squadron called in its report. Captain Hound powered up his long-range communication relay, and selected the subwave band. "SDF Command, this is Captain Hound. Ursa Station is completely obliterated."

_"…Did you find any survivors?"_

The captain closed his eyes. "No life signs at all. No bodies, either. But, sir…I thought Ursa Station was decommissioned."

_"It was. We were keeping a skeleton crew out here to run surveys on the region, though. Can you determine the cause of the destruction?"_

Captain Hound furrowed his brow, and glanced over to Lieutenant Quail off his starboard wing. The avian was shaking his head, and then pantomimed a set of projectiles slamming into the station. "My men found evidence that Ursa Station was likely attacked. The wreckage is very sparse, but there were a few pieces floating around that indicated blast damage from high explosives." He paused, then continued in a stronger voice. "We also found a separate debris field a few klicks from Ursa's coordinates…If I had to guess, I'd say it was the ship that caused this mess. Or what's left of it."

_"Damnit." _The general on the other end of the subwave communication was more than a little flustered. _"And you're sure there were no survivors?"_

Captain Hound's fur bristled a bit. "Just what are we supposed to be looking for, exactly? I realize this is a terrible situation, but there's something about this mess you're not telling us, sir."

_"That's on a need to know basis, captain."_

Suddenly, a shriek came out from below. It was Damer Ostwind, the team's analyst and a precocious squirrel besides. "Look out! There's a big piece of debris coming through!"

True to form, a shorn off piece of metal floated up and through their formation, spinning lazily about. It carried similar scars, but something about it caught their eyes.

It made Lars Hound's breath hitch in his throat. It was a wing from an aircraft. It looked different, and it was messed up badly enough that it looked like it had been split into three wings instead of one, but the color scheme and the shape were both dead giveaways.

"That piece of wreckage is from an Arwing." Lieutenant Quail stammered. "What…What the Hell were Arwings doing out here?"

_"Captain Hound."_

The sudden intrusion of the SDF brass's voice snapped the captain of the 21st Squadron from his questioning reverie. "Sir?"

_"You and the rest of your team are to report to the Aquas sector. There, you will be assigned to the 7th Fleet, under the command of Admiral Bradley Howlings. You are to forget what you've seen here today. As of now, all details relating to this incident are classified. Understood?"_

He didn't like it. He knew his team didn't like it. But Captain Hound still knew how to follow orders. "Understood, sir."

_"Good luck, then."_ The subwave channel closed off, leaving the 21st Squadron in the silence of Ursa's flayed corpse.

"Damnit cap, I don't like this one bit." Lieutenant Quail said, when it was safe to talk again. "This whole mess stinks. This is a frigging tragedy here. We should be investigating this further! Taking samples! Tracking down whoever did this!"

"Easy, Argen." Their fourth member and novice, Wallaby Preen, tried to soothe the hotheaded fowl. "I'd guess that whatever happened here is something they don't want people finding out about. It's probably embarrassing to the higher-ups."

"I'm more concerned about our next orders." Captain Hound cut in, stopping the pointless debate. "Joining up with the 7th Fleet by Aquas? There's nothing going on out in Aquas. What in blazes are they doing massing all that firepower that far out in the boondocks?"

When nobody said anything, he sighed and answered his own question. "I guess we'll find out soon enough. Everyone ready for lightspeed jump. I'm transmitting my marker, so lock on."

The ships hung in space for a moment longer, and then dashed off with a blaze of light from their boosters. They sped up until they reached optimum acceleration, and then seemed to blink out, turning into spears of light that shot off into the ether.

Unaware of what had truly happened at Ursa, the 21st Squadron soared for a massing fleet at the edge of Lylat.

Once again, they would be caught unprepared for what they would find.

* * *

_Inner Lylat_

_In Transit to the Meteo Asteroid Field_

One hundred and fifty years ago, lightspeed had become a reality. The mechanics of it got pretty detailed, but the long story short was that by putting a ship just slightly out of phase of normal spacetime, a person could slip into an underlying and supporting frame of existence called 'subspace.' Once there, traditional limitations on speed and time lost much of their influence, allowing a ship to reach, and even exceed the speed of light without the messy effects of relativity and infinite mass. Lightspeed had made travel across the Lylat System feasible and timely, leading to a second wave of colonization and exploration.

In spite of all of the heady science behind it and the historical portents of the technology that the people of Lylat took for granted, the only thing that Terrany thought of as they sailed through it was that the stars looked very beautiful when they raced by her canopy.

"You awake, Terrany?" Rourke's voice chirped over the intercom.

Terrany blinked, and turned away from her panoramic window. "Huh? Well, yeah…why?"

"Go to Channel Theta. I want to talk to you alone."

"Sure." Terrany reached to her communications controls and punched in the new frequency. One didn't go disobeying the flight lead. "Okay, sir. What did you want to talk about?"

"First of all, can it with the sir stuff." Rourke sounded as tired as Terrany felt. "It doesn't fit me."

"You sure?" Terrany asked. "When things were going to Hell, you did a damn good job of keeping your head screwed on straight."

"Didn't stop them from blowing up our base. Call me Rourke, got it?"

"…Yeah, fine." Terrany agreed. "While we're on names, could you do me a favor?"

"What's that, kid?"

"Stop calling me kid." Terrany answered drily. She drummed her fingers on the side of the canopy, since she had no reason to grab the controls during a lightspeed jump.

Rourke chuckled. "Don't like it?"

"Not especially." Terrany leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. "But what did you want, anyway?"

"I checked my watch. It's three-forty in the morning, and we're flying towards points unknown chasing after a lead given to us by your AI, of all things. What I want to know is, do you trust it?"

_"Trust HIM, you mean." _KIT piped in calmly. _"Are you forgetting I'm in the plane with her, O'Donnell?"_

Terrany's nose twitched, and she gently shook her head. "Kit, pipe down already. And Rourke? I didn't get along with Kit at first, but I do trust him. I trust you now, after all…even though there's that unwritten rule about how McClouds and O'Donnells are supposed to be mortal enemies."

"That's encouraging." Rourke harrumphed. "And to be honest…There was never a rule like that."

"But your grandfather fought my grandfather."

_"He also saved his ass a few times."_ KIT remarked.

"How would you know that? You're just a program!" Rourke demanded.

Terrany cleared her throat. "No…no, he's not just a program. I don't know how to explain it, but…"

"What?" Rourke asked, angrier now. "What is Kit?"

KIT laughed a bit. _"Geez, that's a blatant question."_

"Quiet, the both of you!" Terrany barked. The line fell silent, and she let out a sigh. "I think I've decided something, Kit. You were definitely made from a guy, because I don't think any female pilot involved with the Lylat Wars argued as much as you do."

KIT grunted noncommittally and left it at that.

"But…you're sure about this, Kit? You're sure that there's something in Meteo that can help us repair our Arwings?" Terrany asked, now that her rage was fading away.

_"There should be, if it's been left untouched. And the betting odds are good that it has." _KIT remarked. _"I wouldn't offer a suggestion if I didn't believe in it, and I wouldn't go dragging you in the wrong direction of trouble unless I thought it was worth the effort. Same to you, O'Donnell. I'm trying to keep you all alive."_

"Sorry. I'm just not used to having a computer program talk back to me." The wolf answered gruffly. "It's a little disturbing. I mean, my Odai can offer a retort or two, but that's just the program echoing things I've said. You…you actually think. Maybe that's why none of us could ever work with you. You scared us."

_"Is that so? Do I scare you now?" _KIT pressed, amused.

Rourke let out a long sigh. "You're in the fight with us. I guess that's the only thing that matters. But I wish you'd come clean with us about who you're based off of. Or why you know about this place we're going to."

_"Not today, Rourke. You've already got enough to worry about."_ KIT replied. _"I'm switching us back to normal radio frequency, Terrany. You might check in and see how the others are doing. We've got some time to kill on this jump, after all."_

The radio crackled as KIT adjusted the channel back, and Terrany took a moment to rub her eyes. "Hey, how's everyone doing out there?"

"Well, I was trying to sleep." Milo yawned. "What did you need?"

"Just making sure you're doing all right." Terrany called back. "Sorry to disturb you."

"Pilots, this is Dr. Bushtail on the transport ship." The subwave radio jerked them all to wakeful attention. "I can understand a certain amount of trepidation, but the lot of you are running on very little sleep. I can pull rank on you and order that you resume radio silence and get some shuteye, but I'm hoping you've got enough sense to do it yourselves."

"Doc, I hate to break it to you, but these Arwings weren't exactly meant to be sleep-ready."

"No. They're meant to keep you alive." Dr. Bushtail snapped. "Try, for heaven's sakes. All of your biometrics aren't very pleasing to look at. If you don't give your bodies some downtime, you'll be a wreck when we reach our destination."

"Hate to say it gang, but he's got a point." Rourke conceded. "How much longer do we have for this jump to Meteo, anyhow?"

"Another five hours." Dr. Bushtail reiterated. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll wake you in four. Acceptable?"

"Acceptable." Rourke agreed. "Well, good night for now then."

Milo and Dana offered their own halfhearted farewells, and the radio went silent once again.

Terrany leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. The canopy dimmed without her even thinking about it, and she blinked in surprise.

_"Get some rest, McCloud. I'll run the ship for a while." _

Terrany relaxed, and even smiled a bit as she closed her eyes. "You're not trying to be my guardian angel, are you?"

_"You wish." _KIT chuckled. _"Want me to turn the heat up a bit for you?"_

"Just a couple of degrees." Terrany yawned. She really was tired after all…the adrenaline from their battle and defeat had lasted as long as possible.

The cockpit, for its cramped confines, turned out to be a comfy place to drift off into sleep in.

It was most likely just because KIT made her feel safe.

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command, Corneria City_

General Winthrop Kagan was still mulling through the bad news given to him by the 21st Squadron several minutes after he'd gotten off of the line with Captain Hound. The loss of Ursa Station was crippling. Ursa and the top secret project being done by Arspace at the site were both supposed to be unknowns. Not even their own people truly knew what went on there, outside of the few transport pilots who ran the supply shuttles back and forth. The officer of the watch was making sure that operations continued as normal, and there was plenty to be seen to. Seraph Project or no Seraph Project, trouble was still inbound. They still had to deal with it.

"Be honest with yourself." General Kagan muttered, looking at a digital map of the Lylat System. Radiant green blips marked the location of the Space Defense Forces spacecraft. There were the usual patrols, and some were docked at port. The Lylat space lanes were emptier than usual, though…

Nearly a third of all the ships they had were stationed in orbit around Aquas.

_Be honest with yourself_, General Kagan thought quietly, so as to not upset anyone else in the command center. _Will it really be enough?_

Losing Ursa Station and the X-1 project was a blow that nobody had anticipated. Almost since time immemorial, the Cornerians had looked to the secret advanced starfighters called Arwings for aid and guidance. They still had Arwings, of course…

But the ones that were supposed to be the pinnacle of their technology and talent, and the pilots were now gone and scattered across the cosmos.

"Sir? We're getting a report from the 7th Fleet."

General Kagan blinked, and looked over. "What do we know?"

The radio operator bit his lip nervously. "They're…" He looked up. There was fear in his eyes. "The Fleet is reporting that enemy contacts are closing on their position fast."

_A day ahead of schedule…not good. _

Kagan clenched his left paw into a fist. "Are they ready?"

The technician shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir. They didn't say."

"Well, they'd better be." Kagan exhaled.

_The 21st_ _squadron won't reach them for another half hour._

_

* * *

  
_

_Above Aquas_

The 7th Fleet, officially, was conducting a training exercise around Aquas. It was a baldfaced lie that the Cornerian Military leadership had sold over the news channels, but a necessary one. Preventing panic and giving the illusion of stability and security was the best plan they had.

And if it didn't work?

_Well_, Admiral Bradley Howlings thought to himself, _if this Fleet of 10 Relentless Class Dreadnoughts, 14 Valkyries, 3 Harbinger Attack Carriers and all the fighters we could muster can't stop the advance of the alien legion, then the secrecy is going to be a very moot point._

Standing on the bridge of the flagship _Wardog_, the Admiral broke from his thoughts and returned to the present. "What's the range to the enemy?"

"15,000 klicks, sir." A radar technician answered. "Estimated contact is in three minutes."

"Then let's run our final checks." Admiral Howlings reached to his pocket and pulled up a communicator. "All hands, this is Admiral Howlings. The enemy is three minutes out. We'll try this the civilized way first, but give me a readiness check. Battle Group 1, status?"

_"Captain Grimfield, Admiral. Battle Group 1 is loaded and ready."_

The Admiral didn't skip a beat. "Battle Groups 2 through 4, report in."

_"Battle Group 2, Captain Harrison speaking. We're green."_

_"This is Captain Rottweil Cerbarin. Group 3 is good to go."_

_"Battle Group 4. All ships accounted and running at condition red."_

The Admiral closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself. "Very well. I wish you all the best of luck, men. If they mean to start a fight…let's make sure we're the ones who finish it. Today, they will learn the price of attacking us in our own solar system."

He flipped a switch on his communicator and nodded to the radio officer. "Broadcast my voice on all communications frequencies. Let's see if they're listening."

"Attention. Unidentified vessels, this is Admiral Bradley Howlings of the flagship _Wardog._ Divert from your present course and identify yourselves. I repeat. Unidentified vessels, alter your course away from the Lylat System and identify…"

_"We heard you the first time, vermin." _The voice that answered was cold, cruel…bitter.

The Admiral felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and his ears pointed forward aggressively. "You obviously can understand our language. You have made an unprovoked attack on one of our outposts. If you continue on your present course, we will have no alternative but to open fire on you."

_"You may fight back, if you wish. It will not spare you oblivion." _

"Explain yourself. Who are you? Why have you come here?"

_"We are the Primals, and we have come to reclaim that which the Lord of Flames has declared is ours. You, and all others of your kind on all the worlds of this system shall be expunged."_

The Admiral growled. "Like Hell. This is our system, and we're not about to give it up to a bunch of zealots."

_"As I said, you may fight back if you wish."_

"Count on it." The Admiral snapped, and severed the connection. He turned to the weapons officer. "Do we have a fix on their position?"

"Yes, sir."

The Admiral looked out the massive front window of the bridge and swished his tail angrily. "Order all ships to target the lead vessel with Mark-III Copperheads. Let's show these "Primals" that they don't stand a chance."

A barrage of twenty massive cruise missiles rocketed from the Cornerian line, and spiraled towards the lead enemy ship. The menacing ship, nearly invisible against the starline, couldn't dodge in time. The Copperhead missiles did their work, boring in before their powerful warheads exploded. The first Primal ship disintegrated in a massive fireball, and the rest came charging in.

"All ships, engage at will!" The Admiral called out fiercely. "Don't let them through!"

Long before they reached proximity with one another, the two opposing armadas opened up, and the void between them was lit up with long range laserfire and a furious storm of missiles. Then the radio was filled with noise.

_"Hull breach in the Engineering Compartment. Seal the reactor, seal the __**scchhhhhzzzzz…"**_

_"_Possum_, lay down some support fire!"_

_"They're launching fighters! All squadrons, engage!"_

_"We're hit! We're hit!"_

Not even the Wardog was immune, and the ship rocked under the impact of three high yield missiles.

"Status!" Admiral Howlings barked out, gripping the rail in front of him to keep on his feet.

"Shields are holding sir, but that last salvo's weakened the field around our engines. If they hit them, we're through!"

"Feed in auxiliary power. Do it!" The Admiral glanced over to the radar operator. "How many are there?"

"I count 25 ships, Admiral. They did have 30."

"How's the Fleet holding?"

"Fighters are moving to engage, but we've lost seven ships so far. Their weapons are devastating!"

The Admiral gnashed his teeth together. "At least we outnumber them. Hopefully, that makes us even." He raised his communicator again. "All ships, close ranks. Don't let them turn this into an encircling maneuver!"

The radar station began to make a very loud and worrisome wailing, and the radar technician whipped his head around. "Sir! I'm picking up new contacts!"

The Admiral recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "_What? _WHERE?"

The technician brought up the image on the main viewscreen. Just as he'd said, a host of new enemy blips were appearing in the worst possible attack positions. "All…They're all around us! I'm not sure, but…Oh no. No, it can't be! It's a dimensional _shift!_"

"Impossible!" The Admiral bellowed, eyes wide. Dimensional shifting was a technology that had been pronounced unsound decades ago, riddled with too many uncontrollable variables that destabilized neurological functioning. "But that would mean…"

In all likelihood, that these Primals weren't biological. He didn't want to face that possibility.

"How many more ships?"

"I'm counting another twenty, sir. It's…" The radar operator looked up, at a loss for words.

The Admiral took in a deep breath and watched as the new alien ships, looking like they were meant to be skirmishing craft, warped in all about them and started to attack. "Don't stop now. Keep fighting. No matter what."

The _Wardog_ shuddered again, and warning klaxons sounded on all decks.

Even as the emergency red lighting kicked on, the Admiral kept his voice grave as he spoke to the 7th Fleet. "No. Matter. What."

* * *

_Transports 2-4_

_En Route to Corneria_

Nearly everyone else was asleep inside of the transport. General Gray had tried, but failed miserably. He now resigned himself to sit up in the cockpit with the bleary-eyed pilot, keeping the both of them going on a straight diet of black coffee as they soared through space in the quiet serenity of lightspeed.

"Need a refill yet?" He asked, hoisting the pot. The pilot looked over again and flipped up his sunglasses, shaking his head. The General sighed and put the pot back in the warmer. "Sorry. I guess I'm on edge."

"Not every day you get your command shot out from under you." The pilot observed laconically. "All things considered, I'd say you did all right. We got caught by surprise, and you kept anyone from dying. It was your evacuation order that got all the personnel on these shuttles."

"Thanks." The General grumbled. "I'll keep that in mind at the inquiry. There's gonna be Hell to pay for this."

"You take advice?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I'd suggest that you stop worrying about what'll happen afterwards. We're alive. Right now, I'd bet that everyone thinks we're dead. That counts for something. Plus, we can provide information on some of these alien's tactics to the bigwigs. You're gonna come out of this just fine."

General Gray mulled over that for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose you're right."

The pilot drank some more coffee from his mug, winced, and drained the rest. "Huh. It got cold. I could use a refill now, if you're still offering."

"Sure." The General reached for the pot and poured him another cup.

"Lightspeed's the easiest part of being a cargo hauler." The pilot yawned, sipping the refilled cup cautiously. "You don't exactly make any sudden turns once you start, so I just leave it on autopilot. So if it's not you worrying about the aftermath of Ursa, just what is bothering you?"

"Fear." The General admitted, setting the coffeepot back into the warmer again. He stared out the front viewport and watched the multicolored lines streak by. "It's always been fear."

"What about?"

"That we're not ready for this." The General set his cup aside and folded his arms. "That what we know about these aliens won't be enough to save our troops before the wave hits. We already know they're coming sooner than we expected. And…" He bowed his head. "…I'm afraid that I just sent those damn kids off on a wild goose chase because a faulty AI that never worked before suddenly decided to become eerily lucid."

"They'll come through."

"You think there's a base out there in Meteo that they can make repairs at?"

The pilot considered it for a moment, looking at the General as the old hound raised his head up and stared across the aisle at him. "I think, General…I have to hope there's a base out there."

The pilot turned about and took another sip of coffee. "Worst case scenario? We don't stand a chance. But those 'kids?' Maybe they do. You ordered them to go make repairs. Everyone thinks we're dead. That they're dead."

"Including the aliens." General Gray concluded. "So even if the Space Defense Forces, which was strong enough to take out the last of the great pirate strongholds, can't stop these invaders…"

"…Then we've given those four pilots a chance to live long enough to try again."

The General shut his eyes. "I hate those odds. Heaven help us."

"Yeah." The pilot agreed, and drank some more coffee. They let their voices lapse into silence and watched the stars go by.

Anything else would have just made them worry more.

* * *

_The 21st Squadron_

The Navigation computer beeped at Captain Hound, and he reached for the controls of his Model K Arwing. "All right, team. We're coming out of the jump. Everybody set to join up with the fleet?"

He got a series of clicks, the sound of his squadron toggling their mike switches in the affirmative. Captain Hound nodded to himself. "All right. I'll do the talking with Admiral Howlings. You know how those line officers get. Okay, team. Fire your retros."

Their spacecraft shuddered slightly as they decelerated, and the warped bubble of spacetime around them began to dissipate as they reached normal velocities.

The starlines slowed, and then finally halted. The 21st Squadron reappeared in normal spacetime, twenty kilometers from the designated coordinates of the 7th Fleet.

Instead of the tranquility they expected, though, the airspace above Aquas was littered with laserfire, explosions, debris…And spacecraft and ships that did not register as friendlies.

"What the…" Wallaby exclaimed in horror.

Captain Hound quashed his nerves and reacted where his team froze. The destruction he witnessed of the Fleet they had been sent to protect set his blood to a boil. He powered up his weapons and barked out the orders his team needed to hear. "The Fleet's under attack! Power up your laser and follow me in!"

"Yes, sir!" Argen Quail snapped back.

"Aye-aye, sir!" Damer Ostwind confirmed.

"Roger!" Wallaby Preen agreed.

The four Arwings glowed with light as their boosters blazed a path towards the maelstrom.

"7th Fleet, this is Captain Hound of the 21st Arwing Squadron. We are coming to assist!"

* * *

Admiral Howlings braced himself on the rail from the latest explosion and toggled his communicator. "The 21st Squadron? I was told I was getting a flight of Arwings, but…Somehow, I was expecting someone else."

_"No one else is going to be coming, Admiral." _Captain Hound answered grimly. _"We're the replacements. Where do you need us?"_

Fighting off the sinking feeling in his chest, Admiral Howlings took stock of the situation. A glance at the monitor told a very dismal story. "We got jumped by these bastards. They call themselves Primals, Captain. Battle Groups 1 and 3 are almost completely gone. 2 and 4 have fared a bit better, but they're getting the tar beat out of them."

_"Understood. You want us to run support?"_

Another klaxon wailed and the _Wardog_ shuddered.

"Shields down to twenty percent, sir!" The weapons officer called out. "Should I give the order to abandon ship?"

The Admiral smashed his teeth together and growled. "That's a negative, Captain Hound. Your mission is no longer support."

_"But sir, your shields…"_

"The Hell with our shields!" The Admiral snapped. "We have to stop these Primals here and now, or all of Lylat is going to burn! They didn't come here to enslave us, they came here to kill us all! Your orders are to fly through this mess and eliminate as many of these sorry bastards as you can. Don't stop, and don't let up! Get to their flagship and blast it to scrap. Is that understood, Captain?"

_"…Understood, sir. 21st Squadron, moving to engage!"_

The bridge crew glanced up to the Admiral. For a moment, he expected to see doubt in their eyes. Fear, perhaps.

It warmed his tired heart when he saw only resolve, and nods of agreement. The priority was not to save the ships or the lives in the Fleet. The main objective was to stop the invasion cold.

His warrior spirit reinvigorated, and with a flight of fresh Arwings barreling down into the storm, Admiral Howlings grinned from ear to ear and held up his communicator. "This is Admiral Howlings to all ships still combat capable. We've got the 21st Arwing Squadron flying in to mop the floor with these sorry buggers. Lay down covering fire and keep the Primal fleet from getting any ideas!"

The _Wardog_ lurched about and laid in a new course, helping to form a protective corridor with the other ships left in the 7th Fleet for Captain Hound's team to fly through. The attacks came fiercer because of the maneuver, but amidst the noise of the wailing siren, the Admiral stayed firm.

_**Everyone dies. Not every person lives.**_

"Main batteries, light 'em up. Give it as good as we get!" He called out.

* * *

There was always something inspiring about a full flight of Arwings going on the attack. It was the way they were flown…not stopping for anything, a good Arwing pilot kept on a straight course for the main objective and blasted everything in his way to dust. That singlemindedness had always been a tremendous psychological weapon…the idea that you couldn't stop an Arwing, just maybe slow it down.

If you were lucky.

"Course laid in for the Primal flagship." Ostwind squawked over their radios. "Transmitting the route data. You receiving it?"

Captain Hound looked down to his radar monitor and smiled when Damer's path appeared as an overlay. It skated through their friendly corridor in the beginning, but it soon got hairy afterwards. The straight course would drive them through the heart of the Primal Fleet until they got to their goal. He thought about questioning it, but thought better of it when Argen Quail let out a whoop and boosted on ahead.

His wingmen had the right idea. Damn the torpedoes, as the saying went…

"Full speed ahead." He ordered, blazing forward. "Stay close, everyone. We won't be protected forever."

Damer and Wallaby took up their positions, following him in. Argen was fast becoming a glowing silhouette ahead of them. Almost immediately, a flight of Primal fighters snuck up into the corridor from beneath the ships and set their bearings on the Arwings.

"Keep to your lasers for now. Safety the Smart Bombs. Fire at will." Captain Hound advised coolly. He accented the instruction by peppering the lead fighter with a barrage from his single nose hyper laser. The small craft absorbed several hits before succumbing to the slicing blue photonic energy, and fell into pieces. Similar blue darts of energy lanced out from the noses of his wingmen, destroying the first squadron easily.

"Second wave incoming! Hold on, I've got a lock!" Argen blurted out. Hound stared through his canopy, and he could just barely make out four blobs of movement ahead of his second in command. A shimmering green ball of laserlight streaked at them from Argen's nose and vaporized the entire set. "Hoo-wah! Clean sweep, captain!"

"Marvelous." Captain Hound grunted. "Now get back here. I can't watch your six if you're 2000 meters ahead of me."

"Roger that." Argen eased up on the thrusters and let the rest of the 21st catch up with him. "You're no fun at all, you know that?"

"The moment I start treating this like a game instead of a very real threat, we're all doomed." Hound checked his radar again. "Okay everyone. We're about to clear the Fleet's corridor. As soon as we do, break up in pairs to decrease the chances we'll get pounded by their capital ship's turbos. Argen, you've got Damer. Wallaby, you're with me."

"Sure thing, boss." Wallaby came back.

"I'll watch your six, Damer."

"You worry about your own hide." Damer snorted. The four Arwings separated into their smaller hunting packs, and passed through the end of the corridor. Their need for haste was punctuated when the last _Valkyrie_ Class attack cruiser finally buckled under the assault from the Primal armada and shattered apart in a wild explosion.

"Scatter!" Hound snapped, and the four Arwings barrel-rolled away from the storm of fiery debris. They still suffered a few hits regardless…And the real fight hadn't even started. "Blast it…Everyone all right?"

"Just a few dings. I'll make it." Wallaby answered shakily.

"We're still good here, captain." Damer quipped.

"Good." Lars Hound felt his surprise evaporate for anger…rage. "Then let's make these bastards _pay_ for this."

_"Arwings!!" _Their radios crackled, and the hiss in the voice of the vox-only transmission left no mistaking that the unpleasant scream was not from their own forces. _"They've wiped out two squadrons. All remaining flights, converge and eliminate them!"_

"Gee, you think we pissed 'em off any?" Argen snorted, rolling in a lazy arc over Captain Hound's canopy. "I see them on radar. Permission to go balls deep?"

"…We're clear of the Fleet's line. Blast them to Hell." Hound growled.

Inside his cockpit, Argen Quail chuckled to himself and reached down to the weapons panel. He lifted up the plastic cover of the bomb switch, then flicked the lever from standby to active. His HUD chirped, and he sized up the nearest batch of approaching fighters. With the 7th Fleet busy exchanging fire with the Primals' capital ships, the smaller spacecraft had gone unnoticed. Their design was utilitarian, and a tad unorthodox…They carried two sets of wings, one above the cockpit and another that swept back from the nose and reached even with the rear fuselage. "All right, you sonsabitches." Argen muttered, taking aim. "Let's see you outrun this."

His laserlock tagged the center ship of the formation, and he depressed the bomb trigger with his thumb. The explosive tracked in and detonated, swallowing the mass of Primal fighters in red fire.

"Geez, leave some for the rest of us!" Damer moaned over the intercom. "We're coming up on the first wave of capital ships, Captain."

"Roast 'em as you pass." Hound reached for his weapons console and flipped another protected switch. Out at the front of his two G-Diffuser pods, a pair of interlinked laser cannons emerged, each as menacing as the one in his Arwing's nose. "Engage your synchronized hyper lasers. I don't want to take any chances."

"You sure, sir?" Damer asked, already powering the Arwing's secondary capacitors. "I realize they're rated for extended engagements, but…"

"I know the risks of a blowout as well as you do, Damer." Hound tightened his grip on his flight stick. He inverted himself and lined up his reticle with the first of the capital ships. The starboard cannons opened fire on him, but he rolled clear and fired wildly. His blue shots crashed against the Primal's shields, but only managed to shatter the barrier in the last moment before he had to jerk the stick back and pull away to escape crashing into it.

He was just past them when the shots from Wallaby, fast on his heels, finished the job. The hyper lasers cut through the ship's nose and stitched a devastating path. Small explosions and flickering lights accompanied it, and what was left of the alien cruiser lurched in a disintegrating orbit towards Aquas below.

"That's one down." Hound advised. "Argen, Damer, group your shots. These ships have some severe protection. It took four seconds of constant fire to break its barrier…And that was just a small one."

"Roger that. I'll try and keep some bombs in reserve for the larger ships." Damer sighed. He and Argen were 200 yards off to port, cutting their own swath of destruction as quickly as they could. They didn't stop, however.

The lead Primal ship lingered in the back, taunting them even as it continued to exchange fire with the 7th Fleet's survivors.

Hound kept a mental tag of its position, and kept on the offensive. A powerful turbolaser grazed past him and left a deep nick in his shield strength, and he brought himself back to focus with a grunt of dismay. "Oh, that's going to cost you…" He growled, turning on the ship that had landed the blow.

"I'm with you, Cap'n!" Wallaby called over the radio, and a homing laserburst meandered past Hound and right into the ship's shields. The burst was strong enough that it crashed the shield instantaneously…Hound's lasers made quick work of it afterwards. "How was that?" The marsupial's boasting stopped suddenly as a barrage of turbolasers buffeted his forward shields. "Gah!"

Hound traced the path, and located the next attack cruiser down the line. It had gotten a lock on the team's rookie. "Blast it…Evasive, Wallaby!"

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it!" Wallaby called back shakily. He threw himself into a laser-deflecting barrel roll and looped up and around. "Can you get 'em off my back?"

"Already on it." Hound locked onto the attacking ship and launched a homing laser, then a bomb for good measure. By the time the smart bomb detonated, the shields had been overloaded. It emerged from the fireball, but resembled a lump of charcoal more than a ship at the end. Hound relaxed in his seat and turned for Wallaby's Arwing, letting out a long held breath. "How you holding up, kid?"

"I've been better." Wallaby said shakily. "Those turbolasers can really bake our shields."

"Something to keep in mind the next time you get cocky." Hound swiveled his Arwing back on Damer's attack course. "Can you still keep up with me?"

"It's just my nerves that are shot. The plane's fine." Wallaby rolled left and behind of Captain Hound and steadied himself. "I'm with you, Captain."

"Hey, you two. Quit lollygagging!" Argen laughed over the intercom. Hound looked to the radar display on his HUD and saw that Argen and Damer were a good 400 yards ahead of them, and getting farther away all the time. "The way you two are flying, I'm doing all the work myself. How many ships is that now, Dame?"

"Five…well, six now." The squirrel corrected himself. "And stop calling me that. Just remember Argen; we're not trying to take down the entire armada. We're only blowing up everything between us and that mothership."

"And pray that the Fleet can handle the rest." Captain Hound added grimly, triggering his boosters to catch up with his teammates.

* * *

"Admiral, they've cut a path into the Primal armada!" The radar operator called out exuberantly. "They're splitting them in half!"

"Give me Fleet status!" Howlings barked, in no mood for chitchat.

"Groups 2 and 4 are taking heavy fire. Group 1 is down to two ships, and…Sir, Group 3 is gone." The ship's tactical officer looked up, upset. "There were 10,000 souls in Group 3."

"Status of _Wardog?"_ Howlings went on, refusing to let himself be bogged down by the toll of this. He had to worry about the living first.

"Shields at twelve…"

Another barrage of missiles crashed into Wardog's protective field, and new critical warning lights triggered. The weapons officer winced, and corrected himself. "Sorry, _six_ percent…"

The Admiral nodded curtly. "Then we've made one Hell of a run, at least. Keep firing everything we have. And patch me through to the Fleet, all ships."

The bridge crew exchanged glances. At that moment, they all knew they were going to die.

The radio operator looked back down to his console and typed in the last command. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and began to pray. "You're live, Admiral." He concluded quietly.

The Admiral set a hand up to his headset, an old habit from battles long before. "All hands, this is Admiral Howlings. The Arwings have set up an opening. Groups 2 and 1, attack the portside. You should be able to flank them now. Group 4, you have starboard. No matter what happens, don't stop fighting. Don't surrender. We are the only things standing between our families and oblivion!"

_"Admiral…" _Captain Hound's voice crackled over the radio. He sounded worried. _"Are you going to be all right?"_

"You just complete your mission, soldier." The Admiral answered gruffly, steadying himself from another explosion.

"Our shields are gone, sir!" The weapons officer cried out in a panic.

The Admiral shut his eyes as the first enemy turbolasers blasted their way through the ship's protective hull and into the spaces underneath full of people and equipment. "You're all we have left, Captain. So make…"

Another cruise missile tracked into the _Wardog_ and exploded into the ship's now unprotected bridge. Mercifully, it was quick. Many others aboard _Wardog_ were not so lucky, as burning laser wounds decompressed deck after deck and sucked its crew into the void.

_Wardog_'s power sputtered out moments before the ship's reactor went critical. One mighty spherical fireball marked the last resting place of the 7th Fleet's command ship.

And the battle raged on.

* * *

_"You're all we have left, Captain. So make…"_

The radio emitted a loud bang, then static, then…Nothing.

Captain Lars Hound felt his heart constrict in pain. They'd taken out _Wardog._

"Cap…They got…" Wallaby started.

"Yeah." Hound's hand tightened on the control stick, and he stared at the head ship of the Primal Armada with newfound fire. "I say we gut the bastards. Who's with me?"

Off and to his left, another Primal attack cruiser was split apart in a fireball. Two Arwings flew through the storm and emerged on the other side unscathed, guns blazing at the next in line.

"I'm with you, Captain." Lieutenant Quail snarled.

"Same here." Damer chattered furiously. His tail was probably twitching, Hound thought.

"You don't need to ask me that. You know the answer." Wallaby concluded. He was starting to toughen up. The quaver had left his voice, which gave Hound a good feeling. It looked like Wallaby was going to turn out to be a decent pilot after all.

Hound checked the radar. They had traversed the bulk of the Primal armada, suffered attacks by turbolasers, missiles, enemy fighters, and even a few ships who had tried to ram them in their death throes.

It all came down to this.

"We're breaking clear of the line…It looks like the lead ship decided to pull even farther into the back." Damer pointed out. Ever the technician, his Arwing slipped behind Hound's in autopilot while the squirrel busied himself with the scanners that he had spent long weeks tediously installing and maintaining in his spare time. "No wonder…If my sensors are reading the ship right, it's down to thirty percent."

"Good news for us." Argen harrumphed. "Preparing to…"

"Hold on a second." Damer snapped, silencing the avian hothead. "Shhhh….nuts. That thing has some _serious_ armor plating. Isotronic scan indicates metallurgical composition somewhere around a factor of four greater than what we carry on our Arwings."

Hound didn't like hearing that one bit, and they were drawing closer to it by the second. "In other words, we can't put a dent in it. All right, second option. Weak points?"

"Right. _Every_ massive behemoth we go up against has to have some sort of a weak spot." Damer muttered, continuing his scans. "It's not like these guys, who outclass us on firepower and defense, couldn't make a ship that didn't have one."

"I'm praying that you're smart enough to find something, Damer." Hound ordered. "So make it quick. Argen, you're with me. Wallaby, protect Damer while he finishes up."

Captain Hound and Lieutenant Quail triggered their boosters, and drew closer to the mothership. Hound hit another switch on his console. "Switching to All-Range mode."

"Copy that." Argen called back. Their wings swept forward from the streamlined interceptor position to a 90 degree angle, allowing greater maneuverability. "Any advice, chief?"

"Don't get stupid." Lars Hound answered. Argen guffawed, and checked his radar. "It's not launching any fighters."

"So either it's saving a nasty surprise for us, or it launched them all already." Hound mused, starting to charge up a homing shot. "Given the situation, I'd say the second's more likely." He checked his radar. "Wallaby, you've got four craft coming in at you and Damer."

"I see them, captain." Wallaby came back. "Moving to engage."

"I need a little more time yet." Damer piped in. "Keep them off my back, Wallaby."

Hound turned back to the Primal mothership. "All right, Argen. Cover my six, I'm going in."

"Sure thing." Argen rolled in behind Captain Hound and steadied his aim. "Let's end this."

The two streaked towards the lead ship and were met with a barrage of laserfire from the ship's defensive turrets. Constant barrel rolls deflected the hailstorm away, and Hound grit his teeth against the dizzying sense of vertigo. "Not this time." He growled, and heard the distinctive beep of a laser lock. "Firing!"

The bright, densely charged burst of energy swung in unerringly and exploded against the mothership's shields. A followup barrage of hyper lasers made the deflective barrier glow before it finally collapsed, exposing the ship underneath. "That got him!" Hound's exuberance was early…not long after, he realized that the ship's plating had diverted most of his fire.

In response, a portion of the mothership's armor slid back to reveal a missile bay…which, a second later, launched a storm of projectiles at Captain Hound.

"Breaking right!" Hound shouted, and spun his Arwing away. Most of the missiles skated by without locking on, but two managed to keep pace and stay hot on his thruster wash. "Aah. I think they've got me!"

Argen cut in behind him and took out the missiles with a well placed laserburst. "Don't worry, Captain. I've got your back."

Hound let out his held breath and swerved back around towards the mothership again, spiraling through the laserfire for a second time. "Give me some good news, Damer."

Back a little ways from the dangerous melee, Damer Ostwind finished his opening scans. "The good news is, Wallaby took care of my attackers. The second bit of good news is, I think you can jam those missile launchers if you beat the tar out of those armored hatch covers." He pressed a few switches. "I've located a few more weapons hatches around that rig. I'm transmitting their coordinates to you now."

"Suggestions on firepower?"

"I'd use your smart bombs first." Damer advised. "One of your shots struck the hull after you disabled their shields. Spectrographic analysis indicates that its heavy armor has refractive qualities…but is vulnerable to excess heat."

"Geez, couldn't you just say that if we nuked the beast, we could put enough holes into it to make it a sieve?" Argen groaned. "It's easier!"

"Easier, but incorrect. Smart bombs are not nuclear devices. Completely." Damer quipped dryly. "One more thing, captain; Though I shouldn't need to tell you, if they do open up a hatch to fire at you again, their munitions should be vulnerable to weapons fire."

"You're right. You didn't need to tell me that." Captain Hound remarked, firing a bomb down at the top of the mothership's arrowlike nose. The explosion of red baked away at the thick coating, flaking the top layers off as if the ship was a biscuit from the oven. "All right, Argen! Gun their asses off!"

"Run n' gun!" Argen squawked, and charged in with his guns blazing. The weakened section of armor atop the mothership's bow absorbed shot after shot, and started to glow red hot from the strain.

Wallaby and Damer started to close the gap, and the novice member of the team swooned. "You're doing it, you're doing it!"

Hound could see Argen slam his retros to slow his speed down, and his Arwing kept on firing. "Argen, you crazy son of a bitch, you're going to do it!"

"Was there ever any doubt?" The avian asked smugly between grunts. His finger was flashing over the gun trigger, never stopping, and even slowed, he rolled clear of the frantic laserblasts thrown at him.

Their radios crackled, and a grim, familiar threatening voice returned to them.

_"It's not over yet, Arwing. Breathe your last."_

Argen didn't stop firing, but he did look up in surprise. Just like the rest of his team…

He had been too focused on the glowing, broken section of the mothership's hull to notice a starboard missile hatch amidship open up, barely a hundred meters from him.

They fired.

"Missiles! Break, Argen! BREAK!" Captain Hound cried out, boosting on to attack the cloud.

Too little too late. The missiles all homed in perfectly and bombarded the attacking Arwing with brutal force. The shields held up for as long as they could in the firestorm, and over the radio, Argen's teammates were met with the sound of his screams.

"Argen!" Damer shrieked. "No!"

His radar signature remained intact, and when the light died down, the sight hurt them all.

Argen's Arwing was riddled with impacts and damage. One wing was sheared off, and the other had a gaping hole through it. The G-Diffuser pods were sparking madly, and the shaking from the engines and the severe battle damage around them indicated that the ship was in its dying moments.

Hound swerved about, trying to close the gap between them. "Argen, respond! ARGEN!"

"**….ssschhzzzzz **'ve bee**kzzzzzzzzzzzzz** er…Damn, the**xxzzzchzzzzzzzzz** radio. Syste**chzzzzzzzzz** fried. I've g**znchhhhhhhhhhh** eject!" Through the static of the wrecked communication circuits, Argen made his call. Hound felt his heart beat angrily in his chest.

"Damer, Wallaby, covering support NOW!"

The ejection setup of the Arwing was almost never used, but was standard equipment on every one. Even if every electrical system was fried to Hell, the ejection pod, which was composed of the cockpit with some reserve maneuvering thrusters, ran on its own independent circuits. In the event of a critical systems failure, the cockpit's power grid was immediately severed from the rest of the fighter to preserve emergency system integrity.

That backup did its job exactly like it was supposed to now. The entire cockpit was severed from the dying Arwing with a series of explosive bolts, and then boosted away from the ship. Escape for Argen came none too soon, for his ship exploded beneath him and baked the underside of his tiny protective pod in the void.

Hound exhaled. "Argen! I'm coming to pick you up!"

"I'd a**zzchhh**ciate it." Argen managed to get out over his failing communicator.

The Primal that had hacked into their radio frequency suddenly let out a cold laugh. _"I told you to breathe your last, Arwing pilot. Oblivion waits."_

The turbolasers aboard the alien mothership fired again. They didn't fire at Captain Hound, fast flying in, or the other two, who would soon pose a grim threat.

They fired at the unprotected target…the escape pod crewed by Argen Quail. In a flash of light and vapor from the pressurized atmosphere within, the pod vanished.

A stunned Hound flew by the dust left behind three seconds later.

There was nothing left of his second in command.

Captain Hound's hearing slipped away, replaced by a dull whine. For a moment, time seemed to slow, and he could make out every turbolaser that tried, but failed, to strike him as he passed the last resting place of his most trusted friend.

Then a noise cut through the dull whine.

The shrill laughter of the Primal who had ordered the destruction of Argen Quail.

Hound felt something rattle in his throat, and didn't recognize it as a bloodcurdling scream until he was turned about and charging down the throat of the Primal mothership. His wingmen, stunned in their own grief, knew better than to try and get in his way. Instead, they flew in behind him, determined to support his effort. All of them mourned for Argen in the only way that they were allowed to…

They raged, and made ready to burn everything in the universe around them.

* * *

_Hyperspace (1 hour to Meteo Asteroid Field)_

_"Good morning, sunshine."_

Terrany felt warm, although not entirely cozy with how she was sitting. Cramped up in a cockpit was no way to get a full night's sleep, but her mind was muddled and she had no desire to shake herself to full wakefulness. Unfortunately, KIT had other ideas.

_"Hey. McCloud. Get up already."_

"Mmm-mm." She growled, shutting her eyes tighter.

_"Oh, want to do this the hard way?" _KIT scoffed. _"Fine, I can play it hard."_

The cabin was filled with exactly one second of loud, bass-thumping rock music, and Terrany jerked up with a strangled scream of pain. Silence overtook her, and she cracked an eye open as she pressed her hands against her sensitive ears. "Kit, what the Hell was that for?!"

_"You wouldn't wake up."_

"Dr. Bushtail said he'd wake us up. I was waiting for him to…"

"Rise and shine, Seraph Flight." Dr. Bushtail's ever chipper voice popped over the radio. "It's now been four hours, which means it's time for all of you to wake up."

Terrany glared with her one opened eye at the diagnostics panel, having nowhere else to look at to be angry with KIT. "Oh, you jerk."

KIT laughed softly, and mercifully went silent.

The sounds of her wingmates groggily coming to pulled her focus away from the irritating AI.

"Five more minutes." Milo jokingly mumbled.

"Granger, you've got rings around your eyes no matter what you do." Dana reminded the lackadaisical raccoon. "You can get up with the rest of us."

"All right, I'm up." Rourke called. His image that showed in the HUD marked him as tired, but awake. He didn't even yawn. "Give me a ship status update."

"All systems running normal." Terrany watched the ship's readouts fly by her HUD. "Shields have regenerated."

"I'm fine here, Rourke." Milo said, in his usual drawl.

"Outside of a crushed in nose, I'm good." Dana remarked. "You're the worst off of all of us, Rourke…how's your Arwing handling the FTL jump?"

"It's not a Wolfen, but this paperweight's holding itself together pretty well. It's going to need some serious repairs, though. I think they nicked one of the power conduits to the shield generators…I'm only showing 60 percent viability, and we've been flying for a while now." Rourke stretched himself out, and covered a yawn with a grunt. "Damn." He finished bitterly. "Kit, you'd better have a damn good repair base waiting for us in Meteo."

_"It should be, if it's been left alone."_

Rourke's image blinked, then frowned. "You mean to tell me, you've been leading us away from trouble in the _hopes_ that this base still exists?!"

_"Hey, easy." _KIT groused. _"Look. It was there 18 years ago. That's all I know. The betting odds are good it's intact and untouched."_

"Marvelous." Rourke groaned.

Terrany got a funny feeling in her stomach again, and she looked at the diagnostics panel. KIT finally noticed her watchful gaze.

_"What? Something wrong, McCloud?"_

"Just thinking to myself, is all."

_"What about?"_

"Well…I mean, I'm 18 years old."

_"Congratulations." _KIT snipped dryly. _"Whaddya want, a medal?"_

"Ease off." Terrany grumbled. "It just seemed kind of…well, a little coincidental."

_"You'd be right. It is a coincidence." _KIT said icily. _"Any other conspiracy theories you'd like to voice?"_

"…No." Terrany closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. "Maybe who you were programmed to fight like, but…I think I'll sit on that. I'd probably be wrong."

_"Probably." _Her AI concluded cryptically. _"As soon as we hit Meteo, everyone, set your autopilot to follow Terrany. I'll guide her, and the rest of you, in."_

"Nothing like flying through a zone of rocks the size of small islands." Milo remarked with a cackle. "This should be interesting."

"With all of you around, it usually is." Wyatt Toad croaked from Transport 1.

* * *

_Aquas Airspace_

The three surviving Arwings of the 21st Squadron poured a relentless stream of laserfire into the now bright red hot section of hull that Argen had started to diminish. Their combined firepower took a much heavier toll than one Arwing alone, and they had definitely caught the thing's attention.

Well aware of what had taken them last time, Damer kept his own firing patterns as charged laserbursts. Every so often, another hatch would open and try to launch a barrage of missiles. He silenced every counterattack with a homing shot, catching the missiles only moments after they left the launchers. Most of the launchers were now destroyed, thanks to him…And Wallaby and Captain Hound kept pouring it on.

_"You can't win, you know that!" _The Primal that had been goading them snarled. _"All of you will die! DIE!"_

"You first!" Hound screamed back, and the melting hull finally breached.

A terrible explosion took vapor and debris out from the mothership's gaping wound. The speaker inside the ship howled. _"Turn around! Turn! Don't let them finish us off!"_

"Damer, cleanup." Hound ordered. His wingman toggled his mike switch in confirmation and boosted over the slow-moving cruiser's stern, flying for the breach. "Wallaby…Target the engines."

_"Impossible!" _The Primal screamed louder now. _"You're just three ships! Just THREE!"_

The mothership was now fully turned away in retreat, and its thrusters were exposed.

There hadn't been a ship yet that had armor plating on its engine exhaust. Hound and Wallaby launched smart bombs simultaneously, and fired into the five-piece array with everything their overtaxed weapons array could take. A maelstrom of blue and red light attacked the glaring jets of flame.

The mothership proved the old adage about the vulnerability of thrusters all too well. Even as Damer widened the gash in the ship's nose, Hound and Wallaby finally succeeded in destroying the center engine.

And when that one went, the rest went with it in a wild chain reaction, turning the back of the ship into a flaming wreck.

Damer let out a surprised squeak and boosted clear of it. "Pull back! It's gonna BLOW!"

Hound and Wallaby veered off and dashed clear of the ship. It was sinking towards the blue atmosphere and bluer oceans of Aquas below. Foundering in its last moments, it seemed drawn to a watery grave.

"End of the line, Primals!" Captain Hound shouted angrily. "Your invasion is over, and your armada is wiped out!"

He wasn't mistaken. Even though the 7th Fleet had dwindled to a total of five ships of the line, there were no other Primal vessels left unbroken or obliterated.

In spite of that, the Primal aboard the mothership who had been the voice of the invading fleet let out a long and wild laugh.

_"Over? OVER?!" _He scowled, his words as sharp as knives. _"You may have beaten us, but this is not over! We were only the first wave!"_

Hound felt his blood go cold. He turned his head about and stared back at the dying Primal mothership. "You _what?"_

The Primal laughed longer still. _"You misguided fools…The Lord of Flames sees all, and will consume all! We may perish today, but you, and all the rest of your miserable kind will be burned away!" _

The decidedly male voice only had time for one last scream before the Primal mothership went critical and vaporized in a spherical fireball that nearly engulfed the fleeing Damer. He broke free just in time, thanks to one final burst of speed.

The three surviving members of the 21st Squadron formed up and turned for the remnants of what had once been a massive 7th Fleet.

Hound closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and relaxed in his harness. His face was drawn, and Damer and Wallaby both knew how he felt. Staring through their canopies, they could see his posture.

"All aircraft…report." Captain Hound finally managed to speak.

Damer took off his flight helmet and gave his rounded ears a quick flex. "Ostwind. I'm depleted, but alive."

"Wallaby." The novice member of the team piped in, all his enthusiasm destroyed. "Captain, I…"

"It's all right." Captain Hound interrupted his teammate sadly. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"Don't think like that, captain." Damer advised his CO. "Argen went out fighting. It's how he would have wanted it."

"He would have liked living more, I think."

Captain Hound toggled his radio to the standard military channel. "7th Fleet, this is the 21st Arwing Squadron. The Primal mothership…is defeated."

_"Understood, Captain. This is Commander Sheckwood of the _Dauntless._ For the moment, you'll be reporting to me."_

Temporary battle group commander, Hound realized. A necessity, given that Admiral Howlings had gone down with the _Wardog._

"Understood, sir. But, sir?"

_"Yes, Captain Hound?"_

"…Do you think the Primal was right about them only being the first wave?"

Before Commander Sheckwood could muster a response, the alarms in Hound's Arwing did the speaking for him.

A new set of signals appeared on radar, and as dark specks that blotted out the starry sky behind him.

The second wave.

_"Secure all stations! All ships, prepare for re-engagement!" _Commander Sheckwood called out frantically. _"Blast it! Just how many ships do they have?!"_

Even as Captain Hound and the rest of his squadron silently turned their ships towards the coming onslaught, and certain death, the answer passed through Captain Hound's mind, and he dared not say it aloud.

**They have enough ships to kill us all.**

**

* * *

  
**

_Cornerian Space Command, Corneria City_

The almost total loss of the 7th Fleet had sent everyone in the command center reeling into their own worlds of pain. They had been prepared to treat the entire affair as a sobering lesson, a hard-fought last ditch defense that had stemmed invasion.

Then their systems-wide network of sensors picked up more ships appearing _inside_ the Lylat System.

It was a scramble from there. Their early targets were surprising choices. Smaller sections of the invading fleet, which had called themselves "Primals" from the intel obtained by Admiral Howlings before his demise, broke off and moved towards Venom, Macbeth…the other planets largely responsible for manufacturing and production.

Katina was ignored. Large portions of their sensor grid began to go dark around the areas where the Primal invaders struck, indicating their satellite network was being methodically neutralized.

And it was only minutes later, after frantic calls from the SDF patrols about Lylat went silent, indicating that the attacked planets had been lost...

That a single ship, larger than all the rest visible to their steadily failing electronic eyes, began to set a course for Corneria. General Kagan's hands gripped his chair so hard that his claws left grooves in the plastic.

It was coming fast.

* * *

_Meteo Asteroid Field_

Out of warp and into normal space, the four Seraph Arwings and one hulking Rondo class transport reappeared on the outskirts of a region so hazardous that there had never been any real expedition to map it.

"Meteo Asteroid Field." Milo Granger remarked blithely. "You know, not even the mining consortiums like to go in the interior. Too risky."

"Which makes it the perfect place to hide a base." Rourke reminded them all.

_"You would know, wouldn't you O'Donnell?" _KIT groused.

Rourke narrowed his eyes. "What's your problem with me, program?"

"Steady on, you two." Wyatt Toad croaked, in no mood for infighting. "Remember why we're here, all right? System in danger? Alien invaders? Repair Arwings?"

When nobody else said anything, Terrany piped in. "All right. Let's do this. Kit, show me the way. Everyone else, lock onto my signal."

"Roger." Dana Tiger confirmed.

"Locked and ready." Milo drawled.

"…Do it if you're going to." Rourke finished bitterly. He obviously was still itching to have a word or two with KIT. Terrany ignored it and shot on ahead, using the map KIT displayed on her HUD, and flying as true a course as she could along the highlighted path the AI had drawn.

Forty minutes and five close calls later, the trail ended with them stranded near to the middle of the rocky miasma, with nothing but rocks above, below, in front of, and around them.

Terrany glanced about and frowned. "Kit, are you sure this is the place?"

_"Positive." _KIT answered absentmindedly. He activated the Seraph's probe sensors, looking for something he didn't bother describing.

The rest of the team fidgeted in their cockpits, and inside the Transport, Wyatt let out an impatient ribbit. "How much longer is this going to take? And why have we stopped?"

_"We've stopped, Toad, because we've reached our destination. The base is here." _KIT replied.

"What do you mean here?" Rourke snapped. "There IS nothing here! It's just more rocks!"

KIT laughed a little. _"Geez, O'Donnell. For an ex-space pirate, you sure aren't that observant. Of course there's nothing but rocks here. All of them, looking the same, with nothing remarkable about them, and each one thickly packed with enough minerals to prevent a full scan."_

Terrany caught a motion of something unusual in her HUD display…KIT was transmitting a signal.

_"You see, that's how they hid it. It's not the rock that's important. It's what's _inside_ the rock. And if you hollow out one of these babies, you've got yourself a Hell of a lot of room to piss around in."_

The asteroid in front of them resembled a potato in shape, and bulged at five miles long and three miles wide in the middle.

A large set of hatches suddenly appeared in the stone, and began to slide open. A gaping black maw within the asteroid beckoned them, a mouth that led to Heaven, Hell, or somewhere in between.

_"Well, I guess the garage door still works." _KIT finished smugly.

Terrany stared at the sight, and broke out of her trance only when Milo whistled over the intercom. "Hey, Terrany, you awake?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I lost focus for a minute." She shook her head, and reached down to the general systems panel. "Turn your running lights on. It might be dark in there."

"A secret abandoned base in the middle of an asteroid? I'd bet on it." Dana agreed with a grumble.

"We're right behind you four. Don't do anything crazy now." Wyatt urged the team.

"No more than usual." Terrany mused, earning a chortle from the rest of Seraph Flight. She didn't know what to expect, but KIT had at least held up his end. He'd given them a base.

Now it was just a matter of whether or not they could make repairs and launch again…

Before the Lylat System was lost forever.


	10. Ghosts

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TEN: GHOSTS

**Nova Lasers- **A breed of firepower above standard hyper lasers, the aptly named Nova Lasers break the limitations of blaster weaponry, much as Nova Bombs did a century ago. Instead of relying on the interlink system of its predecessors, the Nova system channels energy through the G-Negator drive directly. Capacitor cells in the G-Negator modules provide the initial charge for the shot, due to the incredible power drain of other systems in Merge Mode. The energy is discharged into the diffuser-powered deflector shields, momentarily repolarizing the Arwing's main line of defense to accelerate the particles to an ultra-excited stage. This energy is then fed back into the capacitors and on to the Nova Laser blaster cannons. The shield repolarization adds a temporary added deflector effect. Sustained firing of the Nova Lasers is not recommended: The ferocity of the energies used can lead to overheating of the G-Negator's capacitor cells, endangering Merge Mode viability and possible damage to the Arwing's primary weapons systems.

**(From Wyatt Toad's Margin Scribblings)**

"_**Make a bigger gun, and you get bigger recoil. Hard to think the recoil can wreck the ship if you fire it enough, though. I wonder if there's some way to tweak the Novas so you could use them in normal flight?"**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_The pirate technician was less than dubious about the procedure. He scratched behind his floppy canine ears. "You're sure about this?" He asked. "I mean, we've never tested this technology. For all we know, it could..."  
The greatest pilot of the Lylat Wars raised his frail hand and shook his head. Lying on the gurney, he was connected to a monitoring machine that kept track of all his failing vitals. "I don't think I've got that much left to lose, sport. I'm already dying. If this doesn't work, then I just die a little quicker."  
"But, digitizing your consciousness?" The technician exhaled. "Even if it does work, there's no guarantee that you'll be the same person you are now. All of your combat training and experience may make the transition, but your personality? That part, we're not sure about. Hell, not even the Cornerian Military's screwed around with this."  
"That's because they're nothin' but a bunch of chickenshit cowards." The pilot coughed loudly, before his voice gave out in a wheeze and he shuddered to silence. It took a long moment before he caught his breath. "Damnit...I mean it. Every time they got in trouble, it was my team that pulled their asses from the fire."  
"You don't owe them anything now." The technician reminded him. "You're not on the force. Hell, you're a wanted man. Even if we do pull this off, what's your plan? Be shipped off to the Cornerian R&D Labs, stuffed away in some file cabinet, get tinkered with, probed? They won't know what to make of you."  
"I'm counting on that." The pilot breathed. He flopped his head to the side and looked up through glassy eyes. "But I made a promise to Krystal. One last favor for the McClouds."  
"I thought Fox McCloud was your rival."  
"Yes, he was." The pilot closed his eyes. "And your people killed him."  
The technician shrugged. "Ancient history. We're on far more favorable terms with you. You didn't give in to Corneria's blind ambition."  
"Protecting yourself is one thing." The pilot sighed. "Militarizing the entire Lylat System? That was never what I flew for. People have to fly free."  
The technician bit his lip. "And now you want to commit your spirit to a machine...to be used as a weapon for their cause?"  
"Like I told you, Krystal McCloud had me make a promise...that I watch over her descendants. Last I heard, Max had just joined up with the fleet. He's a lost cause. But his kid...Hell, I don't even know his name."  
"Actually, Max's wife is pregnant again. Rumor has it, it's a girl." The technician added.  
_

_The pilot shut his eyes and grinned in spite of himself. "I guess one wasn't enough for him. Breaks the pattern, though. Since Fox's father, it's just been one son a generation."  
The technician nodded. "And you're sure I can't change your mind about this?"  
"This cancer's eating me alive. We all want to live forever...Maybe I'm just running scared from oblivion." The pilot opened his eyes and stared at his counterpart. "No, you can't change my mind. And you remember what you have to do when you get done with this?"  
The technician exhaled. "Yes...though I still wish I didn't have to. I'll make sure that your program is sent to our subsidiary technology development lab on Katina. The military's never caught the connection. You should be safe...for a while. But you're sure about the tag you want me to include?"  
"The part that says, _**Aeronautical Artificial Intelligence Assistant**_?__" The pilot replied questioningly. "Yeah. Keep it. Hell, they'll probably change the name themselves later on. Something shorter, more catchy."  
"...You're a brave man." The Technician admitted. "Nobody else I know would ever allow themselves to have their memories, their personality...everything about them downloaded into a machine to be used by someone else."  
"I'm brave, huh?"  
"Yes."  
"...I was always more reckless than brave." The pilot concluded grimly. "And you keep fighting the good fight when I'm gone. I'm convinced that the Military Elite have it all ass-backwards. They may not like pirates, or mercenaries, or 'outlaws'...But the fact is, if they lock down the Lylat System, they'll be no better than Andross." He paused. "Maybe even worse."  
"Good luck." The Technician finished, pulling over a gas mask and pressing it to the pilot's face. A gentle hiss filled his ears, and the pilot felt himself drifting away.  
"...Godspeed..." He breathed in reply._

_

* * *

  
_

_Meteo Asteroid Field_

_Hidden Base_

"Kit?"

Someone was speaking to him. It took KIT a moment to recognize Terrany's voice, which became more irate. "Kit, are you awake?"

_"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, McCloud."_ Came the AI's unenthusiastic response.

Terrany kept her eyes straight ahead, moving at reduced thrust like the rest of Seraph Flight and the transport following them so they weren't running ahead of their spotlights. "You feeling all right, Kit?"

_"I'm fine." _

Terrany had trouble believing his clipped tone. "Are you su…"

_"You worry about your own hide." _KIT snapped. He opened up the frequency and spoke up. _"Everybody have their ears on out there?"_

"We never turned them off." Rourke called back calmly. "And how far into this rock are we going?"

_"Not much farther." _KIT replied. _"Slow it down a few klicks. We'll be coming up on some bulkhead doors soon."_

"More doors?" Dana questioned. "I would have thought one set would be enough."

"They might be airlock doors." Milo put in softly. "Kit did tell us this was a base."

_"And the raccoon nails it." _KIT harrumphed. _"You should be seeing it now. Fire your retros and cut your main thrusters."_

Sure enough, as the four Seraph Arwings and the transport slowed to a crawl, they came upon a second set of doors. This one, however, had an active control panel.

"All right, Kit. You've gotten us here. Now what?" Terrany asked her precocious AI.

_"I'm putting in the access code. Hang on, it's going to take a while to equalize the pressure."_

Unseen behind them, a second set of airlock doors closed. The Arwings quaked for a moment as the tiny asteroidal passageway they were in filled with air, but there was no mistaking the disturbance.

Soon after, Seraph Flight could hear the quiet roar of their engines. Atmosphere had been vented in around them.

The doors in front of them opened up, and a cavernous, empty interior beckoned them in.

_"You can pop the hatches if you want. Atmosphere should be breathable by now."_

Terrany hesitated for a moment, then punched the switch. The canopy raised up slightly, then pulled back to expose the cockpit. She unsnapped her harness and leaned out, taking in a deep breath.

When she didn't explode, the others followed suit. Terrany stared into the darkness of the asteroid's interior and frowned. "Kit? You said there was a base here. I'm just seeing a lot of empty rock."

_"There is a base here." _KIT insisted. _"But it's not the asteroid. It's what's inside of it. You can't see it yet?"_

"All we see, you nutty computer, is a bunch of darkness." Rourke complained. He'd opened his cockpit, but stubbornly stayed strapped in his crippled fighter.

_"…Ah. Yeah, that'd do it, all right. Hang on. Lemme turn the lights on."_

Floodlights that hadn't been activated in years flickered to life with only a few moments of protest. The entire span of the asteroid's belly was exposed, and all eyes locked in on a gleaming beacon of hope and defiance.

Terrany felt something squeeze her chest tightly. It was her own held breath.

The others of Seraph Flight were similarly stunned.

Inside Transport 1, Wyatt Toad croaked the first response. "By the Creator. It's…It's…"

The base that KIT had described wasn't the asteroid. It was the ship that had been placed inside the asteroid. Four wings jutted out from the back end of the ship, with a pointed noselike command deck, a launch bay in its front belly, and cannons besides to give the behemoth teeth.

It towered above the Arwings, easily dwarfing them. The design was archaic, familiar…

And the white armor plating with blue running stripes aside, the ship left no doubt as to its identity with a logo emblazoned along the fantail.

That logo said Starfox. Swooshed tail and all.

_"Meet the ship that never was." _KIT remarked coldly. _"The greatest ship ever designed by Slippy Toad…Flown away under cover of night, and never seen again."_

"Great Fox." Milo exclaimed, fearful and awestruck all at once.

"No. Not Great Fox." Rourke O'Donnell corrected his teammate, the quickest to recover. "Peppy Hare crashed the Great Fox into the Aparoid homeworld decades ago. This is something new."

_"It's yours." _KIT insisted. _"And I suggest you all park into the hangar bay and see about getting the heap running again. If you're going to get the Arwings repaired in time to stop the Primals, we can't spare a moment."_

Terrany's mind was filled with questions for the ever-cryptic A.I, but KIT was right.

"We've got a lot of work to do." She sighed irritably. "Let's park these ships and see what we can round up for Wyatt to fix them with."

"Roger that." Rourke toggled in. The four Arwings of Seraph Flight and Transport 1 closed the gap towards the descendant of the legendary Great Fox.

Everybody's minds swam with dreams of what they would find inside.

* * *

The interior of the hangar bay had more than enough room for the Seraph Arwings and the transport to set down in. A glance at the back, however, left no doubt that this ship, just like the Great Fox, had been designed primarily to launch and store Arwing fighters.

Terrany floated up towards the doors at the back of the hangar bay, guiding herself hand over hand along the stairway railing on the starboard side of the ship. "This is unbelievable." She remarked. Terrany glanced behind her. Rourke was busy conferring with Wyatt and the rest of his tech crew, Ulie Darkpaw included. Milo and Dana were coasting through the zero-gravity environment towards her. "How come nobody ever knew about this? Hell, I'm a McCloud! Why didn't I know about this?!"

_"Not even your father knew about this ship." _KIT told the albino vixen, speaking through the earpiece Wyatt had given her. _"This was a top secret project at Arspace, done mostly by Slippy Toad and a mechanized workforce. Completely off the books. After your father decided to join the SDF, the warthead didn't have a reason to give it to him. No Starfox, no ship."_

"And how did you end up knowing where this got off to?" Terrany asked hotly. "You're just a program!"

_"It's not your problem then, kid." _KIT responded, strangely cold. _"Did you find the access door for the rest of the ship yet?"_

Terrany pulled herself to a landing in front of the main hangar bay access doors. "Yeah, I'm here." She stared at the door, and then to an access panel beside it. "It looks like it's locked."

A viewscreen and a buttonless access pad looked up at her. **Hangar Bay in use. Please transmit identification.**

"Kit, it's asking for ID."

_"No keypad though, right?"_

Milo and Dana came up behind Terrany. "Is there a problem?" Milo asked quietly. Even the characteristically cool raccoon was unsettled by the strange fortune they'd discovered.

Terrany looked back at him. "I'm talking to Kit." She explained, pointing to her earring transceiver. "Yes, Kit. No keypad. So how do I get in?"

_"…Great. It looks like he locked the ship down. To get in, you'd need a handprint ID. But I doubt very much you or anyone else is registered."_

Terrany sighed. "So much for this being easy." She pressed her hand to the reader.

**Processing…**The access panel spat out. **Identity not recognized. Beginning genetic scan.**

There was a momentary sting of electricity, and Terrany jerked her hand back on reflex. Amidst the faint smell of burned fur and ozone, Terrany found her voice. "Kit? It just zapped me. It's saying something about a…genetic scan?"

_"Oh, you're kidding me." _KIT chuckled. _"Well, that's just perfect."_

**Genetic match confirmed. New user identified as descendant of Fox McCloud. Artificial gravity reinitialized. **

The feeling of weightlessness disappeared instantly, and Terrany's boots settled firmly on the deck. Milo let out a surprised laugh and patted Terrany's shoulder. "I never would have believed it. This ship's waking up. It was waiting for you."

Terrany thought about it for a moment, then shook her head sadly. "No. It was waiting for Carl." After all, her brother was the real McCloud.

She was just a substitute.

The access panel flickered again. **First genetic match verified. Second match required for ship access.**

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Dana groaned. "What kind of redundancy is this?"

Terrany was similarly frustrated. "Kit, the door registered me as a McCloud, but it's asking for a second match. What the Hell is this?"

_"It wants _what_ now?" _KIT exclaimed, just as surprised. _"That wasn't supposed to be there."_

"What's Kit saying?" Dana asked, flicking her tail.

Terrany shrugged. "He's surprised. Funny, I thought he knew everything."

_"I didn't know you'd end up working with an O'Donnell, for one. All right. It wants a second match? You're going to have to give it one."_

"Meaning what?"

_"Meaning, you need somebody else who's descended from the Starfox team to put their hand on that scanner."_

Terrany made a face. "Oh, you're kidding me! We don't have anybody else who…"

The albino vixen stopped herself, blinked, and then chuckled. "Hang on a second." She keyed in her headset's microphone and set it to the open channel. "Hey Wyatt. You busy?"

"Oh no, of course not." Came the amphibian's sardonic reply. "I'm just busy trying to figure out how in the Hell my team and I are going to repair Rourke's Arwing when we've got all the tools and none of the supplies. At least the artificial gravity kicked on. What did you need?"

"I need you to come up and put your hand on this scanner. It won't let us into the rest of the ship unless two people from the bloodlines of the Starfox team are registered."

Terrany looked back down to the floor of the hangar bay, and saw Wyatt looking up at her in surprise.

Wyatt shook his head and croaked. "Good thing I came along then. Hang on, I'm on my way up."

Terrany folded her arms and looked over to Milo and Dana. The pair was alert after their nap, but as unsettled as ever. Dana motioned to Terrany's earpiece.

"Isn't it weird having your A.I. talk to you all the time?"

Terrany smiled weakly. "If I want it to stop, all I need to do is take off the earring. For the time being, though, I'm better off keeping it on."

"I'm not used to following the advice of an AI myself, but you and Kit did manage to synch well enough to Merge." Milo offered. "Besides, he's delivered on his promise. He found us a base to make repairs at."

"Assuming this old relic still works." Dana grumbled. "It looks like it's been mothballed for fifteen years."

"It had better work." Wyatt grumbled, finally closing the last few meters to their position. He squeezed by Terrany and stared at the access panel. "Huh. Fingerprint reader?"

"With a genetic scanner embedded in it." Terrany nodded. "Careful, it stings a bit."

Wyatt expanded his throat pouch. "Geez. Who'd build a scanner that shocks people?"

"Your grandfather, if Kit's telling the truth." Terrany smiled. Wyatt looked at her dubiously for a moment, then laughed and pressed his hand to the reader.

There was another momentary whiff of ozone, and Wyatt jerked his hand back. "Geez! You weren't kidding about the shock!"

**Genetic match confirmed. New user identified as descendant of Slippy Toad. Genetic lockout disengaged. Full ship access granted.**

The hangar's access doors opened with a hiss to reveal an elevator within.

Wyatt reached to his waist and pulled up his walkie talkie. It squelched when he pressed the talk button. "Ulie, I'm heading up with Terrany and the gang to have a look around. Maybe we'll find something useful in this ship."

_"No problem. You want Rourke to come with you guys? I don't think we need him for this."_

Wyatt nodded. "Assuming that this ship doesn't have some feature made to kill him on sight, the company would be welcome."

KIT overheard the remark. _"I don't think there is. And there'd better not be."_

Terrany tucked the remark away for later reference and kept quiet.

_"Hey boss?" _Ulie's nervous voice piped in. _"We don't have the components on board to completely reinstall a new wing for Rourke's Seraph. While you're exploring, think you can see if there's one available?"_

Wyatt, Terrany, Milo and Dana stepped into the elevator, with Rourke quietly dashing in just before the doors closed.

Wyatt looked at the four members of Seraph Flight and released another warbling croak. "We'll do what we can."

"So where do we go?" Terrany asked the rest of her team. No longer in the cockpit, her confidence had waned as it always did.

Rourke O'Donnell stroked the fur on his chin for a few moments, then smiled reassuringly at his wingmen. "Where you always go when you're looking for answers on a strange ship. The bridge."

The elevator responded to his last words, and whirred into action.

"Here goes nothing." Milo said glibly.

Wyatt pulled a baseball cap out of his engineer's coveralls and set it on his bulbous head. "Here goes everything." The amphibian corrected him.

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

For General Kagan, this was the no-win scenario. It was something that the proud lynx had only suffered nightmares about back in OCS. The experimental Arwings and Ursa Station had been wiped out in the first masterstroke of the Primal invasion. Admiral Howlings, the most experienced line officer of the SDF was dead. The 7th Fleet was obliterated, with the wreckage orbiting Aquas and burning up in the water world's atmosphere. The Primals had come with superior numbers, and one by one, the shatterpoints of the Lylat System had been taken over. Venom had been the first to fall, with Macbeth, Fichina, and Titania coming soon after.

Now the largest ship in the Primal armada was hovering in orbit, with an array of two smaller cruisers and forty fighters protecting it. The Primals had reason to do so; it was a long-range transport, their ride. One last ship, bristling with guns and spacecraft, had launched from the sizable blockade to descend. It was bearing down on Corneria City, and had cleared the atmosphere.

And it had just launched fighters.

"Where's our support?!" General Kagan snapped. "Did they get all of our defense satellites?"

One of the myriad technicians on call gave him a weary nod. "I'm afraid so, sir. The OWS only took out three fighters before they were shot out of the sky. We surprised them, but they reacted fast."

Another tech glanced up. "Sir, I have Colonel Escrow from Pepper Air Base. He wants to know whether to launch his fighters at the blockade or the forces here."

"Don't worry about the blockade for now!" General Kagan reacted. "They're just holding position. If that attack force reaches Space Command, then this whole shooting match is over!" He glanced over to one of the other communications officers. "What about the 14th Cavalry Brigade? Are they ready to deploy?"

The communications officer was taken aback. The 14th was Corneria City's reserve tank division, only four kilometers out from the city. "Uh…one moment, sir. I'll find out."

General Kagan sank into his chair and clawed the armrests again. The deep grooves in the plastic would soon cut all the way through. "Idiots."

"Sir?" The Lylat coordinator called up.

General Kagan didn't bother turning his head. It was probably more bad news. "What is it now?"

"Our long-range radar network has detected a Primal attack vessel headed for…Meteo."

Kagan's eyes narrowed. "What's in Meteo that'd get them so worked up?"

"Incoming ships!" The radar officer exclaimed.

"Damnit, more Primals?!" Kagan snarled, whirling about.

The man shook his head. "No…No sir. They're ours. Rondo class transports in FTL drive. They're two minutes out."

"Patch me into the radio. We need to warn them off." Kagan reached for his wireless microphone and attached it over his ear. "Incoming transports, this is General Kagan, CSC. We are under attack by superior forces."

There was a pause. Kagan glanced at the radar display. The transports were dropping out of FTL, and returning the call.

_"It's nice to know you care so much about our welfare, Bobcat, but we're well aware of the Primals. We just took the slow boat out of somewhere to reach you. It looks like the warning came too late, though."_

Kagan bristled. He hated that name, and had ever since the Academy. Only a few people knew of it, though. "Identify yourself."

_"Not on this frequency, bub. They can hack our regular communications. Switch to Omega Black."_

The call went dead, and Kagan swore. Omega Black was one of the most highly guarded frequencies, and it relied on quantum encryption to stay a scrambled mess to those who didn't have the correct resonance receiver. The problem was, just like you couldn't view certain subatomic particles without changing how they looked, using Omega Black caused the resonance receiver to shift after one use. Whoever was calling didn't give a damn about the expense that came with resetting the communications lattices. "Switch the channel."

"But, sir…"

"Just DO it." Kagan's fur bristled. He stood up and let his tail lash furiously behind him. "Whoever this guy is, he's got a damn good reason for making the call."

The radio officer nodded and switched the channel over. Kagan tapped the side of his microphone. "All right. You've got ninety seconds on this frequency before the resonance receiver's rendered useless."

_"More than I need, Kagan. This is General Gray."_

Kagan's eyes widened. "Sir?"

_"Don't sir me, you twerp. It's been ten years since I taught you in OCS. You made the rank yourself. And yes, you're surprised to hear I'm alive. Well, we all are. Ursa got taken out, but there were no casualties. Most of the personnel are on these three transports. We'd appreciate whatever support you can offer for the drive in."_

"It's good to hear you made it, sir, but we're in no condition to help ourselves." Kagan admitted wearily. "You'd be better off flying someplace else."

_"Not an option, son. These transports are running on fumes as it is. The attack's over Corneria City, right?"_

"That's correct."

_"Then we'll set down on the far side of the planet and wait this fight out. Just hold on. Don't surrender for anything. Help's on the way."_

"What do you mean, General?" The lynx asked, suddenly hopeful. "Are you talking about Project Seraph? They're coming?"

_"Soon." _General Gray promised. _"They took a beating defending Ursa. The prototype A.I, KIT, told them there was a hidden base in Meteo they could make repairs at."_

General Kagan's hopes evaporated instantly. "Meteo Asteroid Field?"

_"…Yes. Is that a problem?"_

"General, the Primals just dispatched an attack cruiser into Meteo."

Silence ate away at the last seconds of the Omega Black connection. General Gray had the ominous last word.

_"Creator help us all."_

**Click.**

**

* * *

  
**

The five unlikely trespassers stepped out of the elevator and onto the bridge of the sleeping mothership. Only a few of the panels showed any sign of life, and Wyatt hopped over to the nearest one. "Hello, gorgeous." He crooned, running a hand over the keys. "Talk to me, baby."

Terrany stepped around the amphibian and looked around. "Kit, we're here." She announced, following the pause immediately with a softer declaration. "This thing is incredible."

"If this ship is anything like the original Great Fox, it's bound to be." Rourke mused. The front of the bridge was taken up with a massive window that stared out into the hollow darkness of the asteroidal shell. Seen from outside, the viewing portal resembled a narrow visor. The bridge was lined with more consoles and seats than the Great Fox ever had, according to historical record. "It looks like it was built to be a ship of the line."

"It could have been." Milo shrugged, walking around the starboard side. He ran his fingers over the tops of the monitors. "The Starfox team may have been a mercenary unit, but they stopped the Lylat Wars singlehandedly…and acted as the spear when the Aparoids came."

"With some help from my grandfather and Star Wolf." Rourke butted in coolly. "Oh, wait. I forgot that your treasured Cornerian historical texts like to leave that part out."

Terrany looked at him, surprised. "Are you serious?"

"That's always been something that bothered me. Grandpa died of leukemia, and he went to his grave without anyone ever thanking him." Rourke growled. An old and angry fire rose up in his eyes, and he pressed on. "Kind of nice. He nearly gets himself killed doing your dad a favor, and he still ends up taking the rap as a villain."

Terrany's ears flattened back. "I'm…Look, I'm sorry. But it's got nothing to do with me. I never fought with your family."

The fire in his eyes smoldered out, and he managed a chuckle. "Outside of the first time you met me face to face, you mean."

Terrany shut her eyes. "Oh. Right."

"I hate to interrupt your little _tete-a-tete_, but most of the ship's systems are down." Dana remarked. "I think this is the SWACS station, but it's in standby mode."

Wyatt let out a ribbit. "I think I've found out why. We have access to go wherever we want on the ship, but all the systems are in hibernation, except for a few." The four pilots crowded around him, and the amphibian tapped his monitor. "I've gotten into the power distribution program. The only things running at full capacity are the ship's maintenance robots, life support…and for some odd reason, everything on Deck 3, Section 14." He glanced at it and shook his head. "Weird. It looks like the climate controls in there are different from the rest of this ship."

"Why do you think that is?" Terrany asked, for KIT's benefit as well as Wyatt's.

_"…You're kidding me. All these years later, and she kept it running?" _

Terrany blinked. "Kit? What the Hell are you mumbling about now? Who's she?"

Before the A.I. could bluster another response that didn't answer the question, the elevator doors on the bridge opened.

Both Milo and Rourke turned about with their sidearms drawn.

"I assure you, force is unnecessary." Came a dull and digitized voice. Metallic footsteps brought a very old, but still functional navigational robot onto the bridge. Its plating had seen better days, but the gold coloration remained largely intact. Most recognizable was the bright red visor that shielded the robot's optics.

Terrany knew who it was instantly. He was as much a part of her family history as James McCloud. Perhaps even more, if all the stories about this robot's actions were true.

Wyatt Toad and Seraph Flight stared at the old mechanoid, who nodded politely. "Greetings. I am…"

"ROB." Wyatt exhaled. He repeated it again, more excitably. "ROB! Holy mother of…Unbelievable! You're still functional?!"

ROB swiveled his head about and examined himself. "Apparently so." The robot remarked. When he looked up again, Wyatt was right next to him, poking and prodding away. "Please don't do that."

"Oh, right, right." Wyatt backed off, eyes aglow. "But still…WOW. Look at you! You're a freaking relic! You worked with my grandpa!"

"Ah." ROB's red visor dimmed for a moment, as good as a blink could function. "You must be the descendant of Slippy Toad that registered with the ship's crew manifest. Your name?"

"Wyatt. Wyatt Toad."

"Excellent. One moment…Processing…"

Around them, the bridge began to light up. Every console came to life, and a steady vibration started to run through the decking.

ROB shook his head for a moment, and then nodded. "Accepted. Wyatt Toad has been granted full access privileges to the ship. Can I assume that one of the unidentified Arwings in the hangar bay is yours?"

"Uh…" Wyatt's grin faded a bit. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I'm not a pilot. I just build the things."

ROB's visor dimmed and brightened again. "Interesting." He turned and looked to the other four. "And I take it then that _you_ are the pilots? Or have all the descendants of the Starfox team put away flight wings for work overalls?"

In the background, Terrany heard KIT chuckle. _"Smartass."_

The albino vixen rolled her eyes. "No. We're the pilots. I'm Terrany McCloud…Fox's granddaughter."

Milo powered down his laser pistol and stowed it. "Sergeant Milo Granger, Cornerian Army."

Dana folded her arms. "Dana Tiger. Test pilot for the SDF's Seraph Project."

The three turned and looked at Rourke. The wolf was clearly uneasy in the presence of the ancient robot, and he settled on a terse, "Rourke. Flight leader."

"Rourke O'Donnell, if the bridge's speakers are not malfunctioning." ROB added, without the slightest trace of emotion. Rourke's eyes darkened. "My systems are tied directly to this ship's central processor, as I was with its predecessor, the Great Fox. When the need arises, I am capable of telepresence."

"That…is…AWESOME!" Wyatt gushed.

"Get a grip, frog." Rourke grumbled. He put his own pistol away and set a hand on his hip. "So, ROB…Is my last name going to be a problem?"

The old robot whirred for a moment, and then shook his head. "Negative. In the final years of his life, Fox McCloud was on favorable terms with the outlaw mercenaries known as Star Wolf. My records indicate that while your predecessor fought against Starfox in the Lylat Wars, he redeemed himself during the Aparoid Invasion. As you are here with Wyatt and Terrany, my determination is you are to be trusted." ROB's visor blinked again. "If you were not, I would have set this ship to self-destruct."

Wyatt stared. "You're kidding."

ROB shook his head. "It is in my authority as steward of this vessel to keep it from falling into enemy hands." The robot considered them all for a moment before waving his hand about. "Now. Perhaps you can inform me why, after all these years, Falco has seen fit to bring you all here."

The five animals on the bridge looked at each other with a communal confused expression.

"Falco? As in, Falco Lombardi?" Terrany questioned. "But he's dead, though. He disappeared years before I was born. Lost in the outer territories."

ROB's servos whirred again. "Curious." The robot mused aloud. "But unlikely. My records show it was Falco's access code that allowed you to fly into this asteroid dry dock."

"Impossible!" Terrany sputtered, not even noticing that KIT had gone suddenly silent. She looked to the others and shook her head. "How would Kit know…"

The vixen with blue hair so pale it shone white in normal light felt her voice give out.

It all made sense. KIT's cocky attitude. His devil may care approach. His dedication to the team. The one-liners. His respect for crazy stunts that paid off. The distance he'd kept between them, even in Merge Mode.

_The best pilot from the Lylat Wars…_

ROB blinked. "One of your Arwings has just opened a connection to the ship's computer. Should I allow it?"

Terrany's eyes were misting up. Wyatt looked at her for a moment, swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, go ahead, ROB."

"Access granted." ROB replied. "It is activating the speaker system."

_"Terrany?" _KIT asked. He sounded worried. _"Are you all right?"_

Terrany put a hand to her mouth. "All this time…I thought maybe you were made to be like my grandfather. But you…They programmed you from the memories of Falco?"

"No, I don't think that's it." Wyatt put in, before KIT could respond. He stared towards the speaker hanging above the elevator doors with a sad expression. "I think he _is _Falco."

Everyone looked up at the speaker now…Even ROB.

There was a long period of silence before KIT exhaled loudly, and let off a sharp, digitized laugh.

_"Yeah. Yeah, the frog's got it. Just quit it, would you? You look like you've seen a ghost."_

He'd tapped into the cameras as well, Terrany realized. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked KIT…The soul of Falco in the code of a machine.

_"I promised her not to." _KIT replied. _"But she's dead now."_

"Who is?" Rourke demanded.

_"Krystal." _KIT said quietly. _"That power output you couldn't explain, Wyatt? It's from the equipment protecting her garden. I just looked. She's buried there."_

_

* * *

  
_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

The tanks of the 14th Brigade had rolled out onto the main highway. On the horizon, a single Primal battle craft unleashed Hell.

Waves of fighters.

Scores of tanks and attack drones.

Missiles, preceding them all.

The tanks threw up a wall of smart bombs, timing the detonation so the bulk of the missiles were annihilated in the maelstrom of red death. A handful made it through, and the rapid fire of ovoid laser shots cut down a few more. The rest tracked in and smashed four of the twenty tanks into scrap.

The Primal tanks closed in, and the two sides opened up the ground war with laser blasts and plasma blasts flying in every direction. The Primal fighters rolled out overhead and made straight for Corneria City. The drones split up, half going to each battle group.

The grassy hills between the Cornerian Cavalry and the Primal tanks was soon turned into a burning, scarred wasteland of wreckage and bodies.

Above Corneria City, fighters launched from every corner of the globe fought…and died…trying to stop the superior Primal squadrons.

Screaming townsfolk ran as the attack drones, hovering in lazy circles above the crowded streets, fired with abandon into buildings, homes, vehicles…And the scores of civilians who had the misfortune of suddenly living in a warzone.

Atop the towering Arspace Dynamics building, Slippy Toad sat in an old and worn out lawn chair, and watched his home burn around him. He'd long ago sent everyone at Arspace home…

He'd seen this happen before, in another lifetime. It was his evacuation order that hopefully would spare many. Cornerians were strong. They kept to the hills, the mountains…The dug in tunnels and burrows that had been there since their ancestors had first started using stone tools. It was too late for many, but hopefully enough would make it into those ancient safe havens to make a difference.

They had fled when Andross invaded.

They had hid away when the Aparoids brought the war home.

The old toad glanced up in time to see a Cornerian fighter, the mass-produced version made to serve as the Arwing's planetside replacement, shoot a Primal fighter into shrapnel and flames.

"Keep fighting." He whispered, resting his shaky hands in his lap. "Avenge my grandson. Never stop fighting."

* * *

_Meteo Asteroid Field_

_The Unnamed Ship_

_Krystal McCloud's Garden_

Terrany had asked to be alone after ROB had taken her down to the garden. Staring at her grandmother's headstone had overwhelmed her shattered senses. Too many things had happened in too short a time, but thankfully, the robot seemed to understand her desire for solitude when she slumped next to it.

After half an hour of crying and scrubbing at the matted fur around her eyes, she was glad that company came to check in on her.

She was gladder still it wasn't the robot.

Rourke stopped a respectable six feet away, along the metal path that cut through the garden. Ultraviolet lamps in the ceiling maintained the daylight cycle for the trees and flowers that grew within. The wolf glanced up and smiled, feeling them warm his fur. "It's kind of nice here."

"Yeah. It is." Terrany admitted. She sat up on her knees and looked back at him. "Peaceful."

"Not exactly what an animal would expect on a ship." Rourke grinned wolfishly. "I always knew you McClouds were odd ducks." He adopted a more neutral glance soon after. "So, are you going to be all right?"

"No." Terrany said honestly. She pulled herself up to her feet and looked down at the headstone. "The last time I saw her was at dad's funeral. I never got the chance to say goodbye to her. She couldn't even look at us. Her own grandchildren."

Rourke read into her tone. "You don't know whether to be angry with her or just sad, do you?"

"What should I feel?" Terrany quavered. "She abandoned us! We were her family! After dad died, she was all we had left! We were all she had left!" Angrily, Terrany slammed her fist into the dirt over Krystal's bones.

Rourke crossed his arms. "I can't tell you what to feel. But you're venting without knowing the whole story. She had to have a good reason."

"I seem to be getting a lot of that lately." Terrany stood up, rubbing the back of her hand over her eye. "My ship's AI is the programmed spirit of Falco Lombardi. My brother went missing, and nobody ever planned on telling us. Now this thing with grandma." Terrany glanced at Rourke. "Is there anything you're not telling me while we're on the subject?"

Rourke raised his eyebrow, then frowned. "About what?"

Terrany shut her eyes and turned away. It just wasn't worth the trouble getting into a screaming match with him. "How's the ship?"

Rourke relaxed at the change of topic. "Wyatt's been going over the schematics with that robot ROB. Nearly inch by inch. I don't think I've ever heard him squeal this much before."

"I've never heard him squeal." Terrany added, stepping away from the grave and joining Rourke on the path. He started walking towards the exit, and she somehow fell in step beside him.

"I hope you never do." Rourke grumbled. "Like nails on a chalkboard, almost. Milo and Dana dragged down some scanners to the hangar bay, and the tech boys are working on it now. The rest of the Ursa crew on board Transport 1 have been registered into the crew manifest as well…they're making themselves useful, getting this vessel shipshape."

"Unbelievable." Terrany combed a paw through her headfur. "How many people can this ship support, anyhow?"

"According to Wyatt, his granddad built this behemoth to carry around 100 crewmembers. Us included."

"That's an awful lot of people for a mercenary group." Terrany frowned. "Starfox never had that many people working for it."

"Don't ask me to explain why Arspace built it this way." Rourke looked around. "I'm betting this little arboretum wasn't exactly in the standard package, either. Fact is, nothing on board this ship is."

"How so?"

"For one, Wyatt says this behemoth is powered by an…impulse vacuum drive, whatever the Hell that is. He spouted off some technobabble, but all I understood was that the engine draws its power out of thin air, and never runs out."

"I've never heard of that." Terrany raised an eyebrow.

"Neither have I. But Wyatt says it's something that Arspace fiddled with about three decades ago, using research notes taken from Andross's personal library." The wolf shrugged. "I guess it was just too expensive to keep working on…or "granddad Slip" did a better job of hiding his work than most people thought."

Terrany nodded. "Right now, I wouldn't put anything past him, or Arspace Dynamics. So it's got a power source I've never heard of. Next you'll be telling me this thing can blow up planets."

"Close." Rourke shrugged. "Those two cannons we saw on our way into the hangar are JT-300 Turbolasers."

"I've never heard of them."

"I'm not surprised." Rourke grinned. "They were outlawed in the Darussian Accords twenty years ago for being too good at killing ships. This thing's also got a full stock of gravitic defense mines, and space for cruise missiles. Wyatt thinks he can convert the launchers to accept Lylus missiles. Shielding's outstanding for when this was built…Arspace G3 multifrequency shield generator. Apparently, this ship's also carrying an ECM package and a jamming beam."

Terrany whistled sharply. "They weren't fooling around when they built this."

"No." Rourke agreed, respect in his voice. "They made this ship to be a killer. And your grandma made it into something else too."

"What?" Terrany asked curiously.

Rourke paused at the exit, ignoring the hissing hydraulic doors for a moment to look back into the quiet garden.

"A home." Rourke admitted. He took one last mental snapshot of a bed of dogwoods, and walked out.

Terrany looked back after Rourke left, wondering what he'd seen that was so impressive. To her, it was a quiet place in a life that had been filled with noise.

Rourke O'Donnell saw more than that. It made her wonder what the older pilot had gone through to see this place with such reverence.

* * *

Outside the asteroid, and unbeknownst to the members of Seraph Flight and the former crew of Ursa Station, a Primal cruiser was silently weaving its way through the miasma of Meteo's barren rocks.

Something that Wyatt Toad knew about, but had forgotten, was that the X-1 "Seraph" Arwing had a very distinct energy signature. As long as the ship remained relatively intact, particle residue was contained and recycled. When it suffered critical damage, on the other hand…

As Rourke's had, when it lost its wing…

It left a very distinct trail of ions. The cruiser had started at the wreckage of Ursa Station, where it located the beginning of Rourke's escape path. While the trail had gone cold after the FTL jump, the Primals had been able to deduce his destination. After emerging out of subspace at the edge of Meteo, they had found the trail again.

That trail led straight into a very large asteroid. They could get no readings from inside, but there was no doubt that one of the accursed Arwings had flown into it.

The Lord of Flames had been furious to hear that Lylat's defenders had survived. The recently promoted captain of the attack cruiser remembered, fearfully, the absolute pain his former captain had been in when their god had melted the poor soul's brains out.

The order the Lord of Flames had given was simple. Destroy the crippled Arwings…

Or don't come home at all.

The captain didn't understand why his god, who was always so methodical, so precise, would be so obsessed with a scant handful of fighters. It couldn't be fear. It chilled him to even think that anything could frighten his god. No, that certainly wouldn't be why.

Whatever the real reason was, the Arwings would be gone soon enough. He had heard that another squadron of the precious fighters had perished in the battle above the water planet hours before.

These would be no different. They had escaped because only one carrier had gone against them. A large and heavily armed one, to be sure…but not a true attack cruiser.

He ordered his crew to take aim at the asteroid.

It took only one command after that, and then the ship's mighty particle beam blasted into the asteroid. Like a focused jet of water into a boulder, the blinding purple shot peeled rocks away from the surface and ate its way through the massive crag of stone.

The captain had seen their cannon obliterate mountains hundreds of thousands of years in age.

It would split this pebble easily enough.

* * *

The protective asteroid shell shook around them, and because the forgotten Starfox cruiser was still moored to the docking clamps, it shook as well.

Inside the elevator, Terrany stumbled backwards from the doors. Rourke's arm snapped out and braced her up by the small of her back. Terrany paid little attention to the gesture. She didn't have the time to once the alarms started.

"Damnit!" Terrany swore, righting herself. "Were we hit?"

Rourke furrowed his bushy eyebrows for a moment and concentrated. "No…no, the vibration's all wrong for a direct impact. If I were a betting sort, I'd say…"

_"Sorry to interrupt the party, folks, but ROB's picked up something disturbing on sensors." _KIT cut in over the elevator's speaker. _"It looks like the Primals tracked us. They've got a ship firing a particle cannon at point blank range into our asteroid."_

"Not good." Rourke growled.

Wyatt's voice came over the intercom soon after. _"Oh, son of a…I'm such an idiot! Rourke, they tracked your Arwing's power signature!"_

"I thought the Seraphs could mask their ion trail!" Rourke snapped.

_"Normally, yeah…but once you lost your wing, all bets were off. Not much we can do about it now." _Wyatt answered glumly.

"Forget it, then." Rourke drew a hand over his eyes. "Terrany and I are on our way up to the bridge. Milo, Dana, you still down in the hangar?"

_"That's an affirmative, Rourke." _Milo replied.

"Give me an update on our Arwings. Are they flyable?"

_"Hang on a second." _Milo's voice dropped out, and he could be heard conferring in muted tones with others nearby. _"Yeah, Ulie says that your Arwing's shot to Hell, Rourke. Dana's also needs some serious repair. Right now, it looks like only Terrany's and my Arwings are still shipshape. You want me to launch?"_

Rourke hesitated. "Negative. If that thing's packing a particle cannon, it came loaded for bear. It'd rip you to pieces."

Terrany frowned. "Then I'll go."

Rourke looked down at the spitfire. He blinked. "No."

"No?" Terrany repeated angrily. "Why the Hell not?! They're trying to kill us, Rourke!"

"I _know_ that!" Rourke snarled back at her, oblivious to the fact that their conversation was audible over the entire expanse of the ship. "But right now, this ship's our best option."

"This ship isn't powered up!" Terrany McCloud argued. "It'll take time to get this thing combat ready. Hell, it doesn't even have a _name!_ You know how much bad luck it is to sail out on a ship that doesn't have a name?!"

Rourke's snout was twisted into a protesting grimace. "They'll kill you if you fly out there!"

"So I don't fight them. I just keep them occupied until you bring in the cavalry." Terrany countered.

Rourke's eyes flared. His hand came down on her shoulder like a vice. _"_They killed your brother!"

It was quiet for a moment, outside of Rourke's heavy breathing.

Ashamed, Rourke looked down. "They killed Skip. I'll be damned if I'll be responsible for losing the last McCloud."

Terrany's ears flattened back against her scalp. "You weren't responsible for Carl's death. And you won't be responsible for mine."

He looked up into her face just as the elevator doors opened onto the bridge.

That was all the time Terrany needed to knee him hard in the groin. He doubled over in agony, and the albino vixen shoved him out of the lift at the feet of a stunned Wyatt Toad.

"Nobody gets to decide when I die except for me." Terrany stated flatly. "You get this ship powered up, Rourke. I'll buy us the time we need."

The elevator doors closed, and Wyatt propped Rourke up as the battle-scarred wolf squeezed painful tears from his eyes.

"You okay, sir?" Wyatt asked the leader of Seraph Flight.

"Unhhh…I'll live. Might not ever have kids, but I'll live." Rourke gasped. "Frigging Lylus, that hurt."

"She's a spitfire, that one." Wyatt chuckled. He helped Rourke to his feet again. The wolf moved slowly towards the command chair on the bridge, leaning on Wyatt's shoulder the entire way. "I guess that's why her brother gave her the nickname 'Wild Fox.'"

"Wild Fox, huh?" Rourke slumped into the command chair and strapped himself in.

Over at one of the consoles…the Spaceborne Warning and Command Station, or SWACS…The ancient mechanized life form ROB watched the wolf and frog with his dispassionate stare.

Rourke glanced over to him. "ROB, how much time will it take to power up this ship for launch?"

"Substantially less than going from a complete cold start." ROB informed him. His servos whirred for a moment. "The ship's computer estimates three minutes will be sufficient time to bring the impulse vacuum drive to full power and make all systems combat-ready."

"Get started then." Rourke exhaled. "And ROB?"

"Final startup sequence initialized. Please state query."

Rourke scratched at his chin. "Terrany was right about it being bad luck to launch a ship without giving it a name. It's an old tradition that started on the seas, and continued into space. But I think I've got a suitable name."

"Affirmative." ROB's visor glowed brighter. "I have established connection with the ship's primary memory core. Please state this vessel's designation."

Wyatt cackled. "Oh, lord. Are you going to call it Great Fox again? Because that would just be awesome! The resurrection of a legend!"

Rourke shook his head. "I'm all for bringing Starfox back. It's a symbol, and right now, we need one. But I wouldn't feel right calling this Great Fox. The name doesn't fit."

Rourke turned and looked at ROB again, and he shrugged off the last of his pain with steely resolve. "But I have one that does."

* * *

"Kit, where are you?"

The speaker in the elevator stayed silent. Her earring transceiver vibrated, passing along the message through her tympanic membrane.

_"Back in the Seraph. I broke connection as soon as I saw trouble."_

Terrany zipped up her old flight jacket. "Hangar Bay!" The lift started moving back down again, and picked up speed. "You already started up the systems, didn't you?"

_"This ship's warmed up and ready to go, McCloud. It just needs you."_

"All systems green?"

_"The shields took the worst of it back at Ursa." _KIT summarized. _"You've got no bombs left, and Ulie and the boys have been too busy on the more important patch jobs to go looking for extra munitions."_

"I'm fine with that." Terrany set her hands on the inner elevator railing and stabilized herself against the next shudder of the ship. "Like I told Rourke, we don't have to kill it. We just have to survive long enough to keep it occupied."

_"We can probably handle that. Sure you don't want to just kill the thing yourself?"_

Terrany shut her eyes. "Falco…"

KIT was quiet for a moment. _"I wish you wouldn't call me that."_

"It's your name, isn't it?"

_"It _was_ my name." _The A.I. snapped. _"Jeez, Terrany. They downloaded all my thoughts and memories into an A.I. profile construct. Falco died that day. I'm just KIT now."_

"That's crap and you know it." Terrany growled back. "You got scared. You were going to die, and you didn't want to." Another shudder crossed through the ship. "You don't think I'm afraid of stepping into that cockpit? Yeah, I'm afraid! Three generations of McClouds died flying their aircraft, and my brother…"

She choked on the rest of it, and took a moment to compose herself. "My brother…was wrecked by these Primals." Her claws flexed out around the elevator's handrail. "I could end up just like the rest of them. Dead, with the family epitaph; _Cursed to fall, like all McClouds._ But there's living **in** fear, Falco…and living **with** it."

Through the stammer in her voice, Terrany found a measure of strength. "I'm a McCloud. I was born to fly, and I'll be damned if I'll stop now. I belong in that cockpit, just like you did. Just like my dad did."

_"And like Fox did." _KIT admitted a moment after. _"Something you probably never knew about me…that son of a bitch saved my life."_

"How did grandpa do that?"

_"He took me in, gave me a home and his friendship. I was the better pilot, kid…but Fox was always the better person."_

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors hissed open to reveal the Hangar Bay. Milo and Dana were waiting next to the doors anxiously.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Dana told Terrany. Terrany smiled back and nodded.

"So they tell me. You might want to head on up to the bridge. I kicked Rourke pretty hard in the babymaker to make him leave me alone, and he'll probably need the help."

Dana's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"In a way, it makes sense." Milo shrugged. He had been fingering Terrany's modified flight helmet since she appeared, and handed it over as afterthought. "You and Rourke seem to have the same stubborn streak, Teri. That's something you'll want to be careful of in the future."

"If we live that long." Terrany reminded him. She jammed the helmet on her head and dashed down the stairs towards her craft. A black ursine she recognized as Ulie Darkpaw saw her coming, and shouted to the rest of Wyatt's tech crew to clear a path.

"Good luck, Starfox!" Ulie called out after her.

Terrany frowned, and put it out of her mind. KIT popped the Arwing's canopy, and a few seconds of climbing later, she dropped into the cockpit and secured her harness.

_"He called you Starfox, huh?" _KIT teased her through her helmet's communicator.

"I'm not sure if that name means anything these days." Terrany answered curtly. She checked the switches one last time, pleased to see that all the readouts had come back green. KIT had done his job well.

_"It did once. It could again."_

"Maybe." Terrany conceded. "But I'm not my brother. I'm no leader. I'm just a pilot."

_"A damned good one." _KIT argued. _"You've come a long way since our first fights. Just do your best, and I'll do mine…and together, we'll fly circles around this Primal cruiser."_

"Roger that." Terrany activated the thrusters, and the Arwing lifted off of the decking. It hovered for a few moments, then shot forward, out of the launch bay's protective environmental containment field and back into the asteroid. "Ready for Merge?"

_"Born ready." _

There was a momentary lapse of consciousness, the same flash of white…

And Terrany found herself in the boundless expanse of empty space alongside KIT's digital projection.

This time, though, KIT didn't bother masking his appearance.

He wasn't wearing the flight jacket, pants, and combat boots he made famous years before, but in the image his consciousness wove, seventy-five years had never passed. In its place was a stark blue and white shift that rippled with lines of power. He remained as young in spirit and plumage as he had been in the old documentary photographs after the defeat of Andross.

The avatar of Falco Lombardi turned his beak into a cocky sneer and crossed his arms. "Come on, McCloud."

Terrany walked up to him, stared up defiantly (For she'd forgotten how _tall_ the bird had been in his prime), and settled on a grin of her own. "What are you waiting for, then?"

Back in the cockpit, Terrany opened her eyes again. One shared mind blazed through the connectors of her helmet and the ship's computer.

"We're all set. Moving to engage the enemy."

_"Roger that, Teri. Try to keep him off our backs for another two minutes."_

Terrany blazed down the asteroid tunnel, opening the hatches as she went. Atmosphere buffeted them from behind as they charged on, heedless of airlock procedures. Within the bubble of the G-Negator field, though, it posed no problem at all.

"Two minutes, he says." Terrany mused aloud. "That's all we need."

_Agreed._

The outer doors of the asteroid began to open.

Terrany aimed her Arwing for the slowly widening crack.

* * *

The sensors aboard the Primal cruiser lit up.

"The asteroid is opening, captain!"

The Primal warlord smiled, and combed a hand through the fur on his arm. "So, the Arwing pilots have accepted their deaths. Far be it from us to deny it to them."

Only one ship emerged, though. The captain momentarily entertained the notion that it was the only one left, and the rest had been destroyed back at Ursa.

He dismissed it just as quickly. Far more likely that one Arwing had been sent out to protect the others. They were likely hiding inside that false asteroid, trying to recover their strength.

They would not gain that chance.

"Continue firing!" The captain ordered.

One of his lieutenants looked up. "But sir, the Arwing…"

One withering stare made the man shut up.

The captain stood at parade rest. "Target the Arwing with our artillery and missile banks. Do not stop firing the main cannon. We are going to break that asteroid apart and _crush_ the others in one fell swoop!"

* * *

_I don't think they're impressed, McCloud. _

_**I noticed.**_

The Primal attack ship was still firing that destructive particle beam cannon at the asteroid.

_That beam hasn't penetrated the asteroid, but…Hang on, I've got some number crunching to do. Jeez, I hate number crunching._

The cruiser launched a barrage of missiles at Terrany. Hand on the stick, but not moving it, she swerved the deadly six-winged Seraph around the lot of them and kept charging. They tried to swerve around to catch up with her again, but she spun about, kept her velocity straight, and blew the pack apart with a few well-placed shots of laserfire.

_Got it. Terrany, that big cannon of theirs is going to breach the interior in twenty seconds!_

_**And no bombs left. Just great. **_Terrany righted the Arwing and blazed a path towards the ship, weaving through the artillery laserfire. _**I'm targeting their secondary weapons.**_

_Not a bad opening move, but we still need to burn through the armor around its nose and disable the particle cannon's power generator. Or its focusing array._

The Arwing's nova lasers charged up to full power, offering a wild protesting whine. The targeting reticle split into five distinct markers and landed on the cruiser's two starboard missile racks, the two starboard artillery pieces, and for good measure, the ship's bridge. A sharp mental command launched the glowing ball of charged laser energy from the ship's nose. It soared out ten meters, then split apart into five smaller, but equally destructive spheres. They tracked in and exploded, taking chunks of the cruiser's armor out along with its teeth. What amazed Terrany the most was that a few shots that should have hit her during the firing bounced away harmlessly.

_**Hey Falco, did you see that?**_

_Huh. Ship's computer says that's a side effect of the nova lasers. I wouldn't rely on it, though. Take miracles where you can get them, and stick to barrel rolling._

_**How much time now?**_

_**F**__o__**u**__r__**t**__e__**e**__…_

The both of them fell suddenly silent. Did they really both start to mentally say the same…

They stopped again. Yes. And they'd both also questioned…

An impulse of fear passed between them. They thought they were starting to blend together…that they'd never be able to pull apart again.

That was a strong enough reaction to break their Merge interlink and shut down the G-Negators.

Pain surged through Terrany's forehead as her consciousness was roughly seated back into her brain. Her eyes clenched shut, and she bared her fangs to let out a painful hiss. "Guh…Son of a…"

She jerked the control stick back and spiraled away from where she last remembered the enemy ship being.

_"As much as I got scared by that synchronized statement, McCloud, that ship's still got the kill on our pals!"_

Terrany took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The pain was starting to go away. She swerved the Arwing back around and spun for the Primal cruiser. "Hurts less now. Time?"

_"Eight seconds!"_

She was back behind the ship and to its starboard side. Not enough time to make it to the nose and pray that they could gun it down without the added power of nova lasers.

Terrany McCloud blinked away the last bit of her de-Merging pain and noticed something. Where the rear starboard artillery piece had been, a gaping hole now stood. They couldn't hope to punch through its armor in time, and this was a pretty large ship. Large enough that…

"Hang on to something, Kit." Terrany advanced the throttle and opened the thrusters up. They blazed towards the hole.

_"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!" _KIT screamed, panicking.

"Shut up and keep a map of obstacles on the HUD!" Terrany snarled. "We're going _through_ this ship!"

In truth, Terrany had done crazy things in the past. She'd thrived on them, pushing the limits that Carl had always refused to. It was the difference between them. Forever caught in her brother's shadow, she gave up playing it safe, and played it hard.

It had burned her in the past. It hadn't been so many days before that she was expelled from the Academy in disgrace…a ruined pilot with a cursed name.

And now here she was, in the depths of space, fighting to protect the lives of the people who suddenly meant all the world to her.

The reputation didn't matter. Neither did her name anymore.

There was just a dwindling countdown KIT had set up on the canopy's projected HUD…

And the knowledge that she could do it.

Unlike the exterior of the Primal cruiser, the interior had little armor to speak of. Her hyper lasers burned a path of death through it, and countless explosions erupted around her. She squinted her eyes and KIT darkened the canopy, but for a while, she was running solely on what the Arwing's forward radar imaging presented her.

Scurrying figures all around her, sucked into the explosions and the vacuum of space that followed her burrowing path of death. Shrapnel and wreckage from hull plating, exposed sparking wires…

Four seconds. KIT kept silent, too focused on providing her with the data she needed to keep them both alive to bother with a snarky comeback. The shields were taking a beating from the heat and electricity flying all over. The wreckage of the gutted cruiser was doing a number on them as well.

They broke clear of the ship's messy middle and into the forward weapons compartment.

Three seconds. The ailing ship tried desperately to fight off the depressurization from Terrany's insane attack. The ship shuddered as a screaming Primal crewman was sucked towards the Arwing. The wing took the hit and sliced him in half, offering a minor damage report.

Two seconds. At the back of the more spacious weapons compartment, the radar imaging on Terrany's HUD had outlined one very large power emitter, which was sending out a blinding beam of energy to a focusing array that capped what KIT identified as an exit tunnel…

The barrel of the ship's main cannon.

Terrany bored down on the emitter, and with no time to utter the remark, announced it silently as she riddled it with laserfire.

_This one's for CARL!_

The generator blew, and cut off the particle stream only three tenths of a second before the beam was scheduled to penetrate the asteroid's innermost wall. She swerved through the explosion, tightened her body against the shift of G's and the turbulence from the remains, and burned a hole through the now useless crystalline focusing array. Terrany aimed her ship up and out of the thing's main cannon, and didn't breathe.

It was narrow, and her wings scraped along the sides of the barrel. Warning alarms started to go off, and Terrany swore, reaching to retract the wings.

The lever that positioned the wings moved on its own to launch position…the lowest maneuverability, but the maximum speed and narrowest body length. _"Fuh…You fu…GGhhh…YOU'RE CRAZY!" _KIT screamed, even as he altered the ship's alignment to keep them alive and the wings intact.

Terrany kept her teeth clenched and her mouth open as they charged up and out of the barrel. The Arwing was like a bullet, and she was riding it.

The Seraph broke clear, baked at the end by shrapnel and brilliant light that trailed after them. Terrany finally gasped for air. "Kit…Take over for a second."

She pulled her hands away from the controls, and the Arwing leveled out into an autopilot slow turn. She shut her eyes for a moment and pressed her palms against them.

_"Do you have any idea how CRAZY_ _that stunt of yours was? Geez, we could have blown up inside that ship!"_

Terrany's body started shaking.

_"Look, if you wanna throw your life away, fine, but don't do it while I'm stuck for the ride. If you kick the bucket, so do I, and then…" _KIT paused, finally noticing that Terrany was quivering in her harness. _"Uhh…McCloud…Terrany?"_

She threw her head back and laughed. She laughed loudly, and finished with a whoop. "Now THAT was flying!"

KIT sighed. _"Frigging Lylus. I'm supposed to be the hot-head, not you."_

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Terrany wiped at her eyes again, and dropped her hands back to the controls. "I guarantee you that ship isn't going to be firing that cannon anymore. Besides, didn't you say we should try and kill the thing ourselves?"

_"Yeah, but I didn't think flying INSIDE the ship was your solution to that problem! Crimineys, kid. I'm too old for this shit."_

"If you wanted to retire, you would have just died and spared yourself the trouble." Terrany countered, turning the Arwing around back towards the Primal cruiser. "You're stuck with me, and there's no changing that. So you can either try and be this crotchety old grandfather figure you aren't, or you can be honest with yourself. I'm betting you're just upset you didn't think of it first."

KIT seemed to think about it for a moment, then let off a weak snap laugh. _"Maybe a little. So next time, __**I**__ come up with the crazy idea. We golden?"_

"Twenty-four carat." Terrany extended out the wings to interceptor mode and grinned. "We knocked out a lot of its systems on the way through, but it's still moving. Let's finish the job."

_"Damn straight."_ KIT replied. Terrany powered up the boosters, and they shot towards the massive capital ship for another pass.

* * *

The Primal captain swore for a moment that the universe was coming to an end. Every alarm that could possibly go off was, his vessel had shuddered as though the Lord of Flames Himself had slammed a fiery fist into it, and he had been thrown to the deck.

His bridge crew was similarly distressed. He pulled himself back up and grimaced to hear the panicked shouting. "Damage report!"

"We have multiple hull breaches, captain! The death toll's still being counted, internal power is severely scrambled, and…Captain, the Arwing flew straight _through_ us! It destroyed the particle beam from the inside out!"

The captain bellowed out a roar. "It's just _one ship!_ How can one ship do this much damage?!"

No answer came from his crew. The fuming captain found a measure of resolve. "All right, fine. We've lost the particle beam. What DO we have?"

"Starboard weapons are annihilated. We have the portside artillery and two missile banks. The power to our forward lasers has been disrupted, but we have crews working on repairing the connections as we speak."

"Then stop wasting my time, and FIRE!" The captain screamed. "You remember what our orders are! That Arwing…ALL the Arwings…don't come out of this alive!"

Badly wounded, but far from out, the Primal cruiser rumbled to life.

* * *

Out of Merge Mode, the crippled attack cruiser was proving to be quite a nuisance. The bulk of her training had been spent on dogfighting, and tactics against superior numbers.

Fighting a single hardened target was something else entirely.

A barrel roll stopped another barrage of artillery fire from clipping her wings, and Terrany broke out of her attack vector. "Nope…" She grimaced. "That's not going to work. You got a bright idea yet, Falco?"

_"I told you once, McCloud. Call me Kit!" _The persnickety A.I. retorted. _"We're running out of options here. You watching the shield gauge?"_

Of course she'd been watching it. Terrany just hadn't seen the point in reminding the digitized ghost they were running at 72 percent power, and that their stunt of flying through the ship earlier had been a costly gambit.

_"Whatever you do, don't try plowing through a hole in that thing again. It's a miracle you survived that without the G-Negator drive running."_

"The wingspans in Merge Mode would have made maneuvering inside impossible, and you know it."

Her radar beeped at her. Inbound missiles. Terrany swore and shifted into a quickened Immelmann, throwing the two seekers off her trail.

_"Yeah, it's a real damned if you do and damned if you don't situation."_

He wasn't lying. The fact was, the cruiser still had enough firepower to blow them out of the sky, and even this holding action was risky, doing nothing but blowing in the wind. If they tried to disengage and make for the asteroid's doors, the cruiser would get the drop on them for sure. "Screw this noise, I'm going for the bridge. Kit, prep for Merge!"

_"…Kid, are you sure? We've already broken out of Merge once!"_

"We got scared. You going to get scared again?" Terrany demanded hotly. "When we came out of it, I was still me. If we get out of this, we can have a nice long chat with Wyatt."

_"…Slag it. Fine. Prepping for Merge! The synch ratio's a little short, though." _KIT warned her.

"Fine. So I gotta start thinking like you again, featherbrain?" Terrany shot back. "Then give me a crazy idea!"

_"Hang on." _KIT thought it over for a moment, and chuckled as they changed vectors and headed on a course that would take them over the length of the cruiser. _"Think you can hold the ship's nose at a downwards angle for fifteen seconds?"_

Terrany blinked for a moment, then broke out into a grin.

Everything went white, and the Merge was restored.

_**That depends, Kit. Think you can fly us straight enough AND barrel roll enough to keep that thing's artillery off our back?**_

_Worth a try. Just don't stop firing. We're going to finish what we started!_

They shared another thought…It was the craziest ideas that made them the most alike. They were berserkers. Feral warriors able to put everything aside except the fight.

This time, no shock came from the communal realization. Acceptance flowed between them…

And the synch ratio spiked a few points higher than their last best.

The six-winged Merged Seraph spun above the Primal cruiser, stitching a path of nova laserfire straight down its axis. It constantly rolled, spinning on its nose like a top across an invisible countertop. Laserfire bounced off in every direction, and even the missiles found their directional sensors confused by the secondary layer of magnetic repulsion the firing of the nova lasers provided.

One part of Terrany's mind paid close attention to the sensor readings given off in the capacitors within the opened G-Negator pods. They were firing the supercharged barrage as quickly as possible, and it was fast overwhelming the capacitors. Soon, the power circuits would give out, and when that happened, it would mean a blowout, loss of the nova lasers…if not something worse.

Almost regretfully, Terrany stopped firing ten meters short of the bridge, right before the nova lasers hit the red line. She spun away from the inevitable retaliation, and disengaged again. KIT agreed with the decision: There was no reason to extend Merge Mode if they weren't going to be using the novas.

_"I think you nailed him."_

"Team effort, Falco." Terrany congratulated her A.I. "That was some pretty smooth flying back there."

_"…Save the cheers for later. It looks like it's still turning around for another shot at us!"_

Terrany turned her head over her shoulder and looked back. Sure enough, the cruiser was turning around.

**"End of the line, Arwing!" **The cruiser opened up a radio channel, taunting her. **"You have scarred us, and you may have shut down our primary weapon, but you cannot hope to win. Even as we speak, our main batteries are targeting you. There is no escape. Surrender now, and we will make your death quick."**

"What are these things _made_ out of?" Terrany demanded.

KIT never got the chance to answer that question. The backdrop of the asteroid behind the warring ships suddenly cracked apart, and a blinding light from inside caused all eyes and minds to turn away from thoughts of war to surprise.

The canopy darkened quickly, and Terrany stared through the tinted translucent surface keeping her alive.

She broke out into a grin when she realized what was coming.

* * *

"All systems nominal." ROB announced, though he didn't need to. "Asteroid shell dispersed. Smooth sailing, sir."

"Attaboy, ROB!" Wyatt let out a whoop from the SWACS console. He looked back over to Rourke, who was sitting in the command chair. "Jamming beam's set, Rourke. Ain't no way they're calling for help now!"

"Fly us out then, Dana." Rourke motioned forward with his pointer's claw.

Sitting behind the ship's helm controls, Dana Tiger grinned broadly and exposed her fangs. "Aye-aye, sir!"

Terrany had done her job well, stopping the Primal cruiser from shattering the protective asteroid keeping the relic of Starfox intact. Her continued fight had bought the last precious minute and odd seconds needed to bring the ship to full strength.

"Targeting the Primal cruiser." Came Milo's steady voice. The ace shooter was at the weapons control, and building on his reputation with nerves of steel. "Permission to fire?"

"Flay the bastard." Rourke ordered.

Milo smiled, checked the targeting reticle on the ship's two forward mounted JT-300 turbolasers, swung them up to accommodate for their speed and rate of climb, and fired.

The battered Primal cruiser was split apart under the final, resounding barrage. Split along the keel, the pieces of it sparked and foundered for a moment, before succumbing to the overload of its power core and the spherical fireball.

When the light died down, Rourke tapped the communications switch on the command chair's armrest. "McCloud, this is _Wild Fox_. Thanks for keeping that Primal preoccupied. What's your condition, Terrany?"

The radio was silent. Wyatt slapped himself in the forehead ten seconds later. "Sorry. Sorry, my fault. Forgot to disengage the jammer." He slammed a webbed hand down on the console, and shook his head. "Try it now."

Rourke rolled his eyes and toggled his talk switch again. "Terrany, this is _Wild Fox. _How are you holding up?"

This time, he got a response. _"Rourke? You named that ship Wild Fox?"_

Rourke's snout curled into a smile. "It seemed to fit. How's your Arwing holding up?"

_"The shields are a little banged up, and I'm sure Wyatt's going to scream at me and Kit after he downloads the flight data, but we made it out intact. The thing dished it out. Glad you came along when you did. You weren't kidding about those lasers, though."_

"Never bring a knife to a gunfight." Rourke shrugged. "Fly back aboard. Ulie and the rest of Wyatt's crew are waiting for you. It seems that the Wild Fox was able to duplicate the damaged components of our Arwings through manipulation of existing Arwing supplies on board. By the time they give your ship the once-over, this squadron will be ready for launch."

"And none too soon." Wyatt barged in over the radio. He kept the headset pressed to the side of his head and turned to look back at the members of Seraph Flight on the bridge. "I'm picking up radio traffic. Lots of it. The Primals hit all the major planets. Most of them have fallen already. Corneria's holding out for now, but…"

"If we lose Corneria, then this war's over before it began." Milo Granger finished.

Rourke drummed his claws on his chair's armrest. "We won't make it there in time with the FTL drive."

ROB glanced up from the power readouts console. "Might I suggest you implement Wild Fox's secondary long-distance transportation mode, then?"

All eyes turned on him.

"_Secondary_ transport mode?" Rourke repeated with a growl.

Unaffected by the threatening display, ROB nodded his head, neck servos creaking from the effort. "Along with its standard thruster array and Faster Than Light subspace drive, the Wild Fox is equipped with a medium range spacetime portal generator."

Wyatt's eyes lit up again. "Great googly moogly…A PORTAL jump! That'd surprise the Hell out of those Primals! Those haven't been equipped on vessels since the Aparoid War. These days, they only have the pre-positioned ones, and all those were probably locked down the moment the invasion started!"

Rourke allowed himself an honest disbelieving laugh. "Unbelievable. Every time I turn around, this ship's got another surprise up its sleeve." He looked over to ROB. "All right. How soon can you charge the portal generator for a jump to Cornerian orbit?"

ROB whirred for a moment. "To prevent loss of power to other ship systems, a charge period of thirty minutes will be required."

Rourke stood up. "All right then. We'll be ready to launch in half an hour." He slipped his headset back on and turned for the elevator. "Milo, Dana, with me. Let's go see if we can't grab some grub before the shit hits the fan." The elevator doors opened, and they climbed inside. Rourke hit his headset's talk button. "Terrany, can you hear me?"

_"Sure. What did you need, Rourke?"_

"The Wild Fox has a portal generator. We'll be gating to Cornerian airspace in half an hour to blow the Primal invaders out of orbit. I figured you might like to get some food in you first. We're on our way to the cafeteria. Meet you there?"

_"Assuming I can find it." _Terrany replied. _"Wait…Never mind. Kit says he can guide me there. Kind of nice having a tour guide who helped to hide the ship in the first place. Yeah, a meal sounds good. There's probably only that freeze-dried crap in storage left, though."_

"Beggars can't be choosers, Teri." Rourke reminded her, earning a chuckle from the veteran Milo. "We've got a lot to talk about."

_"Yes…we do." _

Dana frowned and keyed in her own headset. "Something wrong, Terrany?"

_"I was just thinking. The last order we were given as Seraph Flight was to head out here to Meteo to make repairs for the final assault."_

"Hm. I do believe those were General Gray's words, yes." Milo observed. The raccoon rubbed at his chin for a moment and smiled. "What are you driving at, exactly?"

_"You named the ship Wild Fox, which used to be my old call sign. Maybe we should change our name as well?"_

"To what?" Dana Tiger prodded.

Rourke caught on to Terrany's line of thinking. He had to admit it made sense.

"To the only name which can give the inhabitants of Lylat the will to fight on." The O'Donnell concluded.

The elevator continued on down, towards the deck where the cafeteria was at.

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

_30 minutes later_

_Here_, General Kagan resolved wearily, _is defeat._

The skies above Corneria City were dark with Primal aircraft and drone ships. The 14th Cavalry brigade had given its all and lay outside Corneria City's limits as smoking wreckage. The Primal tanks now rolled into the streets, with nothing left to stop them.

The Cornerian aircraft that had survived the brunt of combat were slowly being picked off, one by one. In desperation, General Kagan had ordered a full retreat. There was nothing more they could do now, save die uselessly. They had failed to stop the invasion.

They couldn't even save themselves now.

"Incoming…portal?" His flummoxed radar operator reported.

General Kagan's ears perked up, and he whirled about. "A portal? More Primals?"

The radar operator frowned. "Negative, sir…There's a ship coming through, but it's not a Primal ship. Not one I recognize."

General Kagan turned to the lieutenant at communications. "Do we have any camera satellites in orbit nearby?"

"One, sir." The soldier reported, already working to bring up the satellite's imaging software.

A few seconds later, a crisp image of a round, kilometer diameter circle appeared in the starry void above Corneria. And out of it came…

General Kagan blinked.

He gaped. So did everyone else in the CSC.

"That's impossible." Kagan whispered in a failing voice. "I'm seeing things. That can't be…"

And yet, every old war story, still photograph, and holo-movie depicted it.

The inbound spaceship that emerged from a self-generated portal was the spitting image of the mighty carrier and attack ship Great Fox.

Before the Primal carrier in orbit could respond, the unidentified ghost ship belched nuclear fire out of its laser cannons. The Primal ship tried to turn away, all to no avail.

Five seconds of continuous fire later, the first explosions erupted from the Primal ship's surface. The entire thing exploded a moment later.

"By Lylus." The radar operator choked up. "It's come to save us. They've come to save us."

"But it's not the Great Fox." Another soul argued. "The Great Fox was lost in the Aparoid Wars. It looks like it, but this is something new. Something different!"

"LOOK!" General Kagan snapped his hand up, and pointed a shaky finger at their monitor.

The satellite's image showed four smaller spacecraft emerging from the mighty ship, blazing around the Primal carrier's debris field and descending towards the wartorn surface…and Corneria City…below. Their silhouette was unmistakable. Arwings.

The radios crackled to life. All channels. No encryption. A signal meant for all ears, for all to hear.

_"This is Terrany McCloud of the Starfox team. We're moving to engage!"_


	11. Starfox Reborn

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER ELEVEN: STARFOX REBORN

**Smart Bomb Technology-** Shortly before the Lylat Wars, a particular mineral was located in sparse amounts on Corneria by a geological surveyor codenamed "**Destructor**." It was found to have tremendous energy output potential, and scientists began to research military applications for the substance that had no name to begin with, but was eventually named _Cornite. _An early working version resulted in the first generation Cornite munitions: Nova Bombs. These were quickly deemed too powerful for general use, as the wide blast radius destroyed indiscriminately. The second generation of Cornite weaponry was far more successful, and while the payload was decreased, advances in shielding technology due to study of the SFX Arwing made it a feasible tactical device that kept the user safe from the heatflash and particle emissions. It was also given homing capabilities and tied into the Arwing's laserlock guidance system. This so-called "Smart Bomb" served the Cornerian defenders well during the Lylat Wars in the fight against Andross. Cornite was eventually discovered in other places around the Lylat System. The arms race hastened Corneria's dominance over its neighboring planets.

**(From Wyatt Toad's Margin Scribblings)**

"**You know, Cornite's a terrific element. If you keep it at a low power setting, there's hundreds of things it can do. Too bad we'll never see them. You make a weapon out of something once…there's no going back."**

**

* * *

  
**

_Corneria_

_Geosynchronous Orbit_

With the newly reformed Starfox team blasting down towards the battle kilometers below, the job of watching over the mighty spaceship _Wild Fox_ sat on the shoulders of Wyatt Toad, his second-in command for engineering Ulie Darkpaw, and the rest of the Ursa Station crew that had been on Transport 1.

Thankfully, that crew had included the cargo pilot who flew them and some of the bridge crew.

The communications officer glanced up from his console and threw Wyatt, calmly sitting in the command chair, a thumbs up. "The team's away, Wyatt. They're entering the atmosphere now. Anticipate communications blackout momentarily."

Wyatt let out a satisfied croak and drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Any word from our troops on the ground?"

"I'm getting a signal from Cornerian Space Command…They're asking us if we're for real."

At his own station, monitoring the power levels of the _Wild Fox_, ROB calmly lifted his head up. "Curious. My estimates said there was a higher chance they would ask for help."

"You don't go resurrecting legends without there being some disbelief." Wyatt advised the old robot. He nodded to the communications officer. "Let'm know help's on the way." He glanced over to the lynx who'd served on Ursa's bridge. The sharp-eyed feline was standing by the weapons station, carefully scanning for danger. "Is anything else moving up here?"

"We took out their interplanetary transport." The lynx looked over to Wyatt and nodded. "Everyone they've got down is stranded there. Want me to open fire?"

"Yeah, planetary bombardment'd go over real well with them rooted over Corneria City." Another member of the Ursa crew half joked.

Wyatt croaked in agreement. "Stay on station. If anybody tries to escape, we'll blast 'em before they can break orbit. Until then, this is a job for the Starfox team."

"Think they're up to it?" The lynx asked. "They couldn't even defend Ursa."

Wyatt Toad gained a conspiratorial glint in his bulbous eyes and leaned forward in his seat. His webbed hands gripped the armrests tighter, and he expanded his throat pouch.

"There's a lot to be said about a name." The amphibian explained. "Right now, you have to ask yourself…Will they fly better because they call themselves Starfox, or will Starfox fly better because they're in it?"

He leaned back and pressed his fingerpads together. "Either way, it's their turn now."

* * *

_Cornerian Upper Atmosphere_

The four Seraph Arwings spun in towards the planet below, transforming into blazing fireballs as their shields fought off the heat of re-entry.

"Switch to optical communications!" Rourke barked out, moments before the ionization of Corneria's atmosphere turned their radio communicators to static. Until they cleared blackout, line of sight optical lasers connected the Starfox team.

"All ships, report in." Rourke said. The signal bounced from his ship to the next beside him and cascaded out, until all heard it over the infrared interlink.

"Dana here. I'm good to go."

"Milo. All systems green." The team's level-headed raccoon answered. "The shields are handling this pretty well."

"Terrany." The team's sole McCloud piped in, grinning widely. "Hell of an entrance, huh?"

"I guarantee it's the quickest way to bring the Primal fleet down on our heads." Milo mused. "They seem to have a special hatred for Arwings."

"They can try." Rourke hummed. He rocked his Seraph back and forth a bit. "The new wing's holding up beautifully. We owe a big kudos to Wyatt and his team."

_"And the Wild Fox." _KIT added, cutting in over the laser communication. Rourke chuckled.

"And the _Wild Fox_. Milo, what's our best approach?"

"Hang on, I'm checking it…" Inside his Seraph, Milo turned the squadron's most sophisticated sensor array down on Corneria City below. A few more seconds of descent followed in silence before he whistled loudly. "Damnation, that's a load of firepower!"

"AA guns?" Rourke asked, fearing the answer.

"That's affirm." Milo called back grimly. "A ring of them around the city perimeter. It looks like they've got a command ship over the capital spearheading the attack…My guess is it's set its sights on CSC HQ, by its angle."

"Space Command Headquarters?" Dana repeated worriedly. "If they take that base out, we'll lose all coordination with everybody in the Lylat System!"

"Then that command ship just became our primary target." Rourke groused. "Milo, what's our best vector?"

The raccoon didn't mince words. "Given the gun placements, I'd say Highway 60. We drop down and fly in on the main drag, we'll have a clear shot at the city center and that command ship. Loads of tanks and fighters on the way, though…I'd recommend two of us break off and make a circle to wipe out those AA turrets. If there's any reinforcements bound for the city, I'd hate to see them shot down."

"Two for the AA guns. That leaves the other two on a breakneck flight right down the middle in a target rich environment." Terrany grinned. "Put me in charge of that, Rourke. Kit and I are itching to give these bastards some payback."

The wolf mulled their options over for a moment. "Dana, you're with Terrany. Milo, I'll be your wingman for the gun sweep. We'll break off once we hit the city."

He got a series of mike clicks in response, and he realized that the burning red light of re-entry had faded around them. They'd switched back over…blackout was done.

Rourke turned his radio to normal mode. "Deploy wings to interceptor mode and level out at 150 meters, bearing 270."

"One last thing, boss." Milo chirped in again, as the squadron spread out and unfolded their wings from launch position. "Those tanks I mentioned? It looks like they've just about wiped out the defending cavalry. Some of them have started moving into the city, but the bulk of 'em are still in a column rolling down the highway. I'd wager they hung back while their shock force mixed it up. They're giving our boys a Hell of a time."

"Easy solution." Rourke grunted as what little inertia his Arwing's dampeners didn't nullify forced him against his harness. The fact they'd turned and were going into a near straight dive for the surface didn't help. "Strafe that line on our way in. Bombs are at your own discretion, but save one or two for that command ship."

"Aye-aye, sir!" Dana whooped.

Inside her own cockpit, Terrany tightened her grip on the control stick and kept her eyes focused on the HUD. "You've been in this situation before, haven't you?" Terrany asked, knowing KIT would hear her.

The digitized consciousness of Falco Lombardi couldn't contain the eager guffaw. _"Sort of. Fox had us fly in from the mountains."_

_

* * *

  
_

Major Boskins had watched as the 14th Cavalry Reserve was shot to pieces around him. Most of the men in his corps, or at least the ones in charge of the Landrunner Mk. 2 division, were veterans like himself.

Boskins was affectionately called "Iron Beak" by those who had fought under him in the Papetoon Insurrection, and had been born to command. Taking orders sometimes didn't sit well with him, especially the one he'd been given hours before.

_Hold the line._

That line, battered for the better part of an hour, had given way 200 meters to the south of him. As determined and skilled as he and his men were, the Primal advance was too tremendous. Two tanks appeared for every one they blew apart. Their light armor made them vulnerable, but had given them advantage of numbers. It stood to the old hawk's credit that he refused to back down in the face of imminent defeat.

Cigar jammed in the side of his beak, he turned his sharp black eyes on the communications controller at the back of his Landrunner. "How many units do we have left, Sergeant?"

The harried ferret glanced up, one hand holding his headset against his ear. "Eleven…" An explosion rattled through his headset, audible to everyone in the Landrunner's crew compartment. The radioman winced. "…Ten, sir."

Major Boskins chewed his cigar harder. They'd lost two-thirds of their brigade. "Have the others form up behind us. We can't do anything about the ones that made it through already without getting our asses shot off, but we can by Lylus run and gun with that column. Holding action, my ass!"

"So we're ignoring our orders to defend the city?" The tank's gunner asked.

"We're not ignoring them. We're going to work the best way we know how." Boskins looked back to his radioman. "Get that message out already!"

The radio crackled again; broad-comm. Open frequency.

_"It looks like you boys could use a hand down there on Route 60."_

Major Boskins blinked. He stormed over two meters to the radio and took the microphone and headset from his subordinate. "Who is this? Identify yourselves!"

_"Rourke O'Donnell, leader of the Starfox team." _The calm voice called back. _"Hold tight for a bit. We're setting up for a strafing run, and I wouldn't want you boys lining up in our gunsights."_

Major Boskins blinked and took a step back.

"Sir?" The tank's gunner asked.

"It's gotta be some sick joke." Boskins crowed. He handed the receiver back over and tapped his wingtip on the side of his arm. "All the same…Do we have any aerial contacts on radar?"

"Four, sir." The helmsman piped up. "They just appeared five kilometers out."

Boskins' eyes went wide. "Shh…Order all tanks to hold tight and brace for artillery fire!"

"What?" His radioman blinked.

Boskins exploded. "Just DO IT!"

The radioman finally reacted, whipping his mike up. "All tanks, hold position and secure stations. We have inbound aerial support!"

The helmsman watched his radar in disbelief. "By the Creator, they're booking it! Three kilometers out…Two…"

Boskins opened the main hatch of their tank and popped his head out. He stared to the east, where the rolling column of Primal tanks was closing in. He glanced up…

And there, four silvery birds streaked in behind them. Boskins felt a smile come over him.

"One."

The four Arwings who had identified themselves as the Starfox team opened up, showering the column of tanks with a tremendous amount of laserfire. The thin armor of the Primal line offered little protection, and soon the heat and noise of their explosions washed over the Cornerian Landrunners.

The Arwings shot overhead, followed shortly thereafter by a concussive boom and the scream of their engines. Boskins let out a laugh as he surveyed the damage they'd caused.

Only a handful of Primal tanks remained.

Back inside the tank, the radio came to life again. _"That got 'em. Think you can handle cleanup down there, fellas?"_

Boskins quickly hopped down and leapt to grab the receiver his radioman offered. "Damnation! You guys are for real!"

_"The jury's still out on that." _The voice who'd identified himself as Rourke replied humorously. _"Good hunting, boys. We've got a ship to blow up."_

The Arwings aimed in towards the city and decreased their speed, leaving Major Boskins and the survivors of the 14th Reserve Brigade behind.

Boskins took his cigar out and knocked the ashes onto the floor of the tank's cabin. He jammed it back in his beak and smiled wider. "New plan, boys. Tell the tanks to rally as planned. First, we take out those surviving tanks. And then, we're moving into the city to beat the shit out of the ones that made it through."

"Yes, sir!" The gunner resecured his station and took aim again, firing off a thunderingly loud shell. It plowed through one of the surviving Primal tank's tin-thin armor and ripped the thing apart. He let out a whoop and grinned as the muzzle reloaded. "I've got a name for these things, Major! Why don't we call these tanks "Tinwheels?"

Boskins let out a satisfied puff from his cigar and nodded. "Graff, you get through to the rest of our boys?"

"Yes, sir!" The ferret snapped.

"Good." Boskins sucked in another deep puff of the life-shortening tobacco. "Prep a message to Cornerian Space Command; Let 'em know we're going to finish cleaning up these Tinwheels, and then we'll be rolling into the city."

The surviving Landrunners formed up and rolled out onto Highway 60, firing into the midst of the dead and dying Primal Tinwheels.

* * *

_"Son of a duck, do you realize that _none _of you used any bombs on that strafing run?" _KIT asked Terrany.

The albino vixen didn't break her eyes off the HUD. "I guess we didn't need them. I always preferred keeping them back for use on hardened targets."

_"Now you're talking like Fox."_ Her AI complimented her.

Rourke didn't give them time to elaborate. "All right, people. We're at the city limits. Dana, Terrany, it's twelve kilometers to the city center and that command ship. You'll be fighting your way through. Any questions?"

"None here." Dana growled. "Back me up, Terrany."

"You've got point, roger." Terrany took a look at the radar display and shook her head. "Damn, they've got a lot of firepower…"

"Do yourself a favor and stay alive." Rourke advised. "Ready to go, Milo?"

"Breaking formation in two…one…"

Rourke banked left and Milo dove a bit before banking right, splitting off from Dana and Terrany. The remaining two Arwings set their bearings down a narrow corridor that would take them into the heart of the sprawling metropolis…a city now burning.

"Hell of a shooting gallery." Milo observed dryly.

"Then let's make a game of it." Dana replied. "Person who nails the most bogies buys the celebratory drinks."

"You're on!" Terrany grinned. "I'm going to smoke all of you!"

"Don't lose focus!" Rourke yelled at them, silencing their mirth in one quick second. "This isn't a game. They killed Skip, and if we don't watch ourselves, they'll kill us too." To accentuate the rebuttal, he angled his nose at a pair of snub-winged Primal attack drones and splintered them with hyper laserfire. "If you're good, you're good. If you're not, you're dead. And sometimes, being good even isn't enough to save you. So do us all a favor, kids, and stay serious."

Rourke's comm line chirped off and his Seraph boosted out towards the southern edge of the city and the waiting AA guns.

Exuberance deflated, Terrany flew on in silence.

_They killed Skip._

_Skip was dead._

She didn't want to believe it. Carl had been her big brother, the strong and silent protector. He'd never fallen before. She'd been denying it ever since she'd arrived at Ursa.

Now, the Primals had invaded Lylat. Most of the planets had fallen. Corneria lay in ruins beneath them. If they could do this…

Then Carl really was nothing more than space dust.

_"Kid…you all right?"_ KIT asked quietly.

Lower lip quivering, Terrany hardened her heart and pushed the need to cry into the back of her throat and swallowed. She gripped the control stick tighter and charged up her homing laser.

A pair of hovering attack craft rose up from the city streets intent on meeting her. She locked on and fired, blasting them apart with energized green light.

_"Terrany?"_

"I'm fine." The last McCloud snapped, anything besides fine. "Watch the shields for me and keep quiet. I'm doing this mission on my own."

Safe within the memory banks of the first Seraph ever made, KIT mentally sighed and did as he was told. Terrany was like Fox McCloud had been on a bad day; brash, bold, and recklessly impulsive.

He only hoped that she'd find a way to focus all that wrath before she got them both killed.

* * *

Slippy Toad had seen many things in his long life, but the sight of four Arwings streaking in from the eastern horizon, blazing a path of destruction through the advancing Primal tank lines made his eyes well up.

He tried to convince himself that they weren't anything special; Probably some Model K's dispatched from some other base on Corneria to deal with the threat. He dashed his own hopes that by some miracle, they were the X-1 Seraph Arwings from Ursa Station.

But that was impossible. The CSC had dispatched a flight of Arwings to investigate, and they'd only found spaceborne wreckage…and the wing from a Seraph, ripped away while in Merge Mode.

And yet…Those four Arwings had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Right in the nick of time. Just like Fox always did.

"Just like we did." He spoke aloud, and blinked to hear his own scratchy voice again. He shifted his weight onto his cane and turned about on the rooftop of Arspace Dynamics' main building, watching the Arwings blaze in.

Two of them broke off and started their own low sweeps around the city's perimeter. The other two blazed on, burning a brilliant path of destruction towards the city center.

Arspace Dynamics' main building was on the eastern end of Corneria City. It was why, even with failing eyesight, Slippy had been able to watch the battle unfolding.

It hadn't been a battle before. It had started as a massacre. But four Arwings, the stellar silver-winged spacecraft that Arspace had made its reputation on, had turned the tide.

The last two flying on towards the center of Corneria City were coming closer. Their path would take them right by the Arspace building. Slippy squinted his eyes to focus through the milky particles that had begun to plague him for the last month and stared closer.

They shot by him, and one mental snapshot gave him the entire picture. His breath caught in his throat.

He'd looked at the wings. They had the grooves he'd painstakingly worked with Wyatt and the X-1 design team on…the grooves that allowed secondary wings to blossom from the dorsal and ventral sides of the angular razors the ship flew on.

They passed him, and the profile of the vanishing Arwings' G-Diffuser pods said it all.

"By the Creator." Slippy choked out, and tears finally came. "The Seraphs. They're alive. They're alive."

His phone went off. It picked up automatically and routed the signal to his headset.

_"Grandpa Slip? You there? Please, tell me you're all right!"_

"Wyatt." Slippy collapsed to his knees and let himself fall apart. "I…I thought you were dead. Creator above, I thought…"

_"I'm all right. We're ALL all right." _Wyatt croaked happily. He was starting to cry himself. _"Everybody got off of Ursa before the Primals blew it apart. We did it, grandpa. The Seraphs work. They work beautifully."_

"I'm glad." Slippy smiled and wiped his tears away. He struggled to stand back up, but did so after a few painful moments of creaking joints. "Where are you?"

_"I'm up in orbit, aboard the _Wild Fox._"_

"What? _Wild Fox?_" Slippy countered, pushing his cane hard into the rooftop to support his weight. "What's that?"

Wyatt chuckled. _"Something you built a long time ago and forgot about. And you didn't tell me? Baaad grandpa. By the by, an old friend of yours named ROB wanted to say hello."_

Slippy Toad felt a grin stretching from ear to ear. "You found the Mark 2 Great Fox?"

_"It needed a better name." _Wyatt said. _"The word's out, grandpa. The Starfox team is back in action."_

Slippy Toad smiled all the more and offered a word of prayer to all his old, dead friends.

A new team was flying under the banner.

* * *

The first of the antiaircraft hoverturrets tried to turn itself about to take aim, but Rourke had pushed his Arwing to breakneck speeds. It had only moved its cannons half the circumference before he riddled it with laserfire. The thing let out a few dejected puffs of smoke and fell to the ground below, exploding on impact.

"That's one." Rourke bared his fangs and barrel-rolled through the counterattack of a few nearby snub-winged fighters… "ODAI, mark those fighter drones as Snubs."

**"Done." **The somewhat sarcastic AI on his ship replied. Like the others, it had picked up its own behavioral cues from the pilot it had trained with, and had done a fair job of mimicking the surly O'Donnell's hot-headed mannerisms. **"Hey, we've got a radio transmission from Cornerian Space Command. They're asking to speak to the leader of the Starfox team."**

"That'd be me." Rourke looped up and behind the tailing Snubs and blasted them apart with a laserburst. He spun through the fiery debris and kept going. "Patch it through, ODAI."

_"This is General Kagan, CSC. We got word from General Grey that you'd survived Ursa, but after our sensors saw a Primal ship gearing for Meteo Asteroid Field, we feared the worst."_

"Sorry to keep you waiting, General." Rourke replied. "We had to stop for some repairs…we ended up finding some extra help."

_"So we noticed." _Kagan mused. _"That ship in orbit's a beast. Is it the Great Fox?"_

"We call this one _Wild Fox_, General. Didn't seem right to use the same name again."

_"Well, keep it up there for now. How apprised of the situation are you?"_

"Sergeant Granger and myself are clearing out the Anti-Air units right now. Terrany McCloud and Dana Tiger are closing in on your position to deal with that command cruiser."

Rourke winced; a thunderous explosion came through the voice feed.

_"Good." _Kagan hissed, probably through clenched teeth. _"We've got our deflectors going, but they won't hold up forever. If this base falls…"_

"Yeah, I know." Rourke grumbled. "I know. Hang tight. Help's on the way, General. Discom."

The communication flipped off, and his ODAI spoke again. **"Hell of a day, huh boss?"**

"You're telling me." Rourke blinked a few times, then swore and jerked his Arwing hard right.

A blistering particle beam blasted through the space he'd been occupying shortly after.

The next turret in line had drawn a bead on him.

"Hell of a day." Rourke growled in agreement, firing his boosters.

* * *

Doing a flyover of Corneria City had been a longtime dream of Terrany's, but she'd never expected to be doing it in the middle of a warzone. At least the constant laserfire directed at them kept it interesting.

Dana and Terrany swerved around opposite sides of an unstable building riddled with smoking holes, and Dana fired off an untargeted laser burst down at the closest squad of saucer-shaped attack drones that had decided to open fire on them. The skins of the aircraft bubbled and boiled before succumbing into dust and debris.

"So far, so good!" The tigress announced. "How are you holding up, Terrany?"

Terrany boosted through the fireball Dana had created and dove underneath a city cross-bridge. A shot meant for her struck the concrete roadway harmlessly, and she whirled her Arwing up, bringing the fighter dead in her crosshairs. Two shots reported out from her hyper laser turrets, dropping the fighter to the ground.

It wasn't the maneuver that left Dana speechless as much as the reckless ease that Terrany had performed it.

"I'm fine." Came the terse reply. "Did we get that mothership's attention yet?"

Dana checked her Forward Looking Radar. "No, it's still taking potshots at the CSC."

Terrany's Arwing rolled in a loop and shot down one of Corneria City's main streets. Skyscrapers towered above her, keeping her safe from artillery. At the speed she was moving, though, one error in judgment would lead to a very destructive collision.

It never came.

"Terrany, what are you doing?" Dana demanded. Her wingman offered no comment for several seconds, shooting down another drone and blasting one of the Primal's citybound tanks into a flaming wreck.

"Getting that thing's attention." Terrany finally snapped. She blazed a course through Corneria City, almost scraping the ground.

* * *

_The Primal Siege Ship __Sundown_

The crew of the _Sundown_ had watched helplessly as the transport cruiser that had brought them to Corneria was torn apart in a hail of laserfire, courtesy of a large attack ship that had emerged from a warp gate. As soon as the announcement, meant for their ears as well as the Lylatians hit the radio announcing the approach of _The Starfox Team_, their tension hit an all time high.

It had been the Lord of Flame's highest order that no Arwing was to survive. Now a full flight of them was fast approaching, and even their unit name, Starfox, seemed to cause every surviving Cornerian unit to fight twice as hard.

The war room bristled with frantic radio accounts. Drones were being shot down. The artillery positions were being compromised. The tank force sent to roll into the city was wiped out, and the ones already inside were being hunted down with impunity.

The one advantage the Primals had, their simian captain thought quietly, was that they still had their guns trained on the Lylatian's command headquarters. The bases' shields were already beginning to fail, and once they cut through and obliterated the facility, any chance of a meaningful counterattack would be done for.

"Enemy radar spike! Incoming projectile!"

The commander reacted on instinct. "Shields up! Brace for impact!"

A moment's delay would have cost them all dearly. Instead, their craft only shuddered as a high yield explosion rocked their deflectors. A momentary disruption in power flow made their turrets fade for a moment, and the captain growled loudly. "Where did that come from?"

"The angle suggests that an enemy tank was responsible." Their combat coordinator observed. He checked his readings and swore. "No! An Arwing!"

"What, _here?_" The captain shuddered incredulously. "Already?"

"We lost one from our tracking earlier. If they dropped low and came in fast, we wouldn't have seen them coming."

"Do we see it now?"

"Yes, it just flew up above the city's building level."

"Then _fire!_" The captain screamed. "Have all surviving anti-aircraft turrets zero in on it! The Arwings must not be allowed to interfere!"

* * *

_You wanted their attention? You got it._

Terrany grunted as the excess G Forces strained her against her harness. The thing had turned around and fired every available piece of artillery it had at her. To make matters worse, the turrets around the city were apparently following orders. The sky above her turned dark purple with photonic microbursts, energy flak.

"Damn!" Terrany swore. "I can't get clear!" She spun about and angled her nose down into an inverted dive, but the turn came too late to stop her momentum completely. Flipped upside down, the thinner armor along the sleek fighter's belly bubbled and baked under the assault.

Warning lights flared, but in the place of a siren, KIT spoke. _"Kid, I know you didn't want me helping, but…"_

"I _know!_" Terrany yelled at her AI. "Rourke, you there?"

_"I'm a little busy right now, McCloud."_

"You were supposed to be wiping out all the enemy artillery! I'm getting roasted here!"

_"You were also supposed to stay low! What happened with that plan?"_

"Things changed!" A few shots from the Primal attack carrier flared against her rear deflectors before her dive finally took her back towards ground level. The top of a skyscraper exploded as laserfire meant for Terrany blasted the last five floors to ash.

She could hear Rourke sigh. _"All right. Milo and I'll finish up here. You get to ground and out of that mess, you hear me?"_

"As if I had a choice." Terrany cut the transmission off and leveled off over one of the main drags. She checked her HUD: 76 percent shielding remaining. Not bad, considering the firestorm she'd almost flown into. "Time to turn and burn, Kit."

Her radar beeped ominously at her. Terrany blinked as KIT threw it in the corner of the Seraph's display.

_"Not yet, kid. We've got inbounds! Multiple missiles, and they look like doozies!"_

Terrany's eyes went wide. "The AA installations?"

_"Still active. We can't go vertical! They're playing battleship with us!"_

Unable to go up above the city's building line, Terrany's mind clicked into the last option. She gripped the flight yoke tighter to stop her shaking and drew in a long breath of air. "Time to impact. Display it."

The missiles were tracking in on radar, aimed at her and all around her. A digital timer slowly ticked down the last seconds before destruction would fall all around her.

* * *

"Level everything! We'll drop this entire city on top of that Arwing if we have to!" The Primal commander was almost gleeful, hooting softly under his breath.

They had unloaded an entire missile bank, and the shots had been well placed. The first explosions engulfed the side streets and any possible escape with fire and noise. The next set ripped into the buildings just ahead of the lone fleeing Arwing, tumbling reinforced concrete, glass, and office debris down towards it.

The _Sundown_ had created a corridor of death, and unable to go vertical because of the AA guns, the Arwing did its best to steer through the mess. Soon, the explosions outraced the aircraft, which bounced up and spun wildly about before it was swallowed up in a black and gray cloud of smoke and dust.

The Primal commander sneered. "Saturate the Arwing's last known location! I don't want any pieces bigger than a socket bolt surviving!"

The last of the carrier's fired missiles tracked in and made a fireball that rose one hundred meters into the air. Dust choked the air, masking the rubble from view.

Their radio intercept officer set their read from the enemy's comm circuit to the bridge speakers.

_"Terrany, respond!" _Came a panicked male voice. _"Terrany! Say something!"_

The primal commander nodded, well satisfied. "Have our ground forces close in to confirm the Arwing's destruction." He folded his arms. "Resume firing on the enemy's headquarters."

* * *

It was a testament to the durability of the Seraph Arwing's deflectors that no falling debris had crushed the ship into a pancake.

Terrany had swung the fighter in tight, quick yaws all over the street, suffering glancing blows from shattered buildings all over the place. It was one massive sheet of duracrete wall material that taxed the deflectors just enough to clip her port wing. The spacecraft had spun out end over end and out of control after that, coming to a jarring stop after crashing through the ground floor of a clearance warehouse. The engines had sputtered out barely a moment after the rough impact, bringing momentary quiet before a massive wave of explosions outside shook the ground.

The Arwing lay sideways on its scarred belly, one wing slightly bent against a large shelving display of holovision sets.

Silence came with a thin haze of dust that drifted into the superstore from outside. It was several seconds before the ringing in Terrany's ears slackened off enough so she could hear again. "Are we dead?" She asked hollowly. She doubted that was the case; her head was swimming from the collision and spinout, and her entire body screamed against the restraining harness. Her vision was just starting to hum back into focus.

_"Almost."_ KIT replied, clearly perturbed. _"The reactor went into auto-scram, the deflectors are shot, and our comm circuits were fused. That artillery warped our bomb launcher out of commission, your nose is smashed from the crash, and there's enough damage to the port wing that employing the secondary drive motivators is impossible."_

Terrany popped the seal on her cockpit and opened the hatch. She choked on the dust in the air for a few seconds before she covered her mouth with the collar of her shirt. "That's all right." Terrany responded to the AI. "I didn't feel like Merging anyhow."

The albino vixen blinked her eyes to clear away the dust that had gotten caught in them, and tried to rise up. She winced, then stayed still. "It hurts to move."

_"Then don't move." _KIT advised her. _"Chances are you got knocked around a bit in that spinout. I'm just surprised we didn't explode in the crash."_

"You going to question it every time we come out alive?" Terrany asked. "These Primals don't exactly fool around. So are we done for, then?"

_"I said this ship was beat to Hell. I didn't say we were done for." _KIT harrumphed. _"Give me a couple of minutes; the ships' auto-repair subroutines are kicking in. The radio's beyond fixing, as is Merge Mode, but it looks like we can restart the engines again."_

"And the shields?"

_"They had to buffer off a chunk of masonry the size of a small house. It'll take a while."_

Terrany opened her mouth to say something else, but went dead quiet as her sensitive ears heard a noise approaching.

Heavy, rumbling machinery rolling over debris. A tank.

And there'd been no Cornerian tanks anywhere nearby when they'd crashed. She remembered that much from her last look at the radar.

"Define a while." Terrany grunted in pain and unstrapped her flight harness. "Do we keep a gun somewhere?"

_"Shoot. Company?"_

"You'll be able to pick them up soon enough."

_"Second compartment on your right. Standard issue medium-intensity charging laser pistol."_

Terrany reached her arm over against the screaming pain in her ribs and retrieved the weapon. A quick check of the power monitor along the side of the stock gave her a little bit of hope.

Fully charged.

"Keep repairing the ship." Terrany ordered her AI. She grunted in fresh pain as she climbed down the side of the Arwing and onto a collapsed shelf. Stepping past a row of holiday chocolates that had been knocked askew, she made it to the floor with minimal complaint. "And play dumb."

_"Make it look like you abandoned ship and the Seraph's a piece of junk."_

Terrany cocked her sidearm and continued to pace away from the ship. The tiny transceiver in her earlobe that Wyatt had made allowed her and KIT to speak. "It won't be that hard, I imagine."

_"No."_

The light coming in from the gaping hole outside was cut off; a vehicle had parked in front of it.

Terrany limped for cover, staring at the intruders through an overturned stack of stuffed animal figurines.

A squadron of five Primal troopers unloaded and headed inside, each carrying a vicious looking energy rifle with a bladed bayonet sharp enough to spill her guts across the floor.

Terrany gripped her laser pistol tight and made no sudden moves. Given how painful it was to move in the first place, playing dead came easy.

_"Be careful, Terrany." _KIT urged her, whispering. He didn't have to; the vibrations from the earring transceiver transmitted the message directly to her auditory canal.

As the first member of the patrol walked past her, not more than ten feet away, Terrany offered no answer to the hushed words of hope.

She could feel cold, bony fingers trying to rest on her shoulder.

* * *

_"Dana, where is she?!" _Rourke's voice was frantic. _"Can you see her?"_

Crushed, Dana finally made her way to where Terrany had last been seen on the radar.

No radio signal. No IFF signal. No radar blip.

Just Primals, sifting through the rubble.

Dana veered away as some of them got ideas and started shooting at her. She veered down another side street. "She's…She's down, Rourke. I'm not seeing anything." Dana wiped away fresh tears. "We've lost her."

* * *

Out on the edge of Corneria City, Rourke's heart suddenly rang hollow. Terrany McCloud was gone. Dead.

Just like her brother. Just like her father. Just like her grandfather.

This time, it was on his hands. He'd ordered her to split off and attack the Primal command ship.

_"Rourke?" _Milo prompted the O'Donnell. _"We still have to take out the AA guns. This mission isn't over."_

Rourke shoved his own grief away into a dark corner and kept his focus on the task at hand. His ODAI silently agreed; payback was due.

There were four AA hoverturrets left. They had been enough to pin Terrany down at ground level so the Primal ship could finish her off.

Two on his side. Two by Milo.

Rourke went low and cruised for the first turret. His Arwing's secondary stabilizers started to rise out from the top and bottoms of his wings, and the G-Diffuser/Negator pods opened up and separated into their four piece arrangement.

The change adjusted not only his Arwing's appearance, but its radar signature as well. The Arwing went from an arrowhead to an outright diamond on the screens of his teammates.

"Merge complete." Came Rourke's voice, calm and collected. Only his ODAI knew how angry he still was; the emotional backlash was accelerating the approach of Merge Mode's cascade limiter. Five minutes operational time to three.

His ODAI also reminded him that in spite of the null gravitational field from the now active G-Negator modules, there was nothing that could be done about the atmospheric resistance. The maneuverability given by Merge Mode had been designed for outer space, not planetside combat.

_**We'll adapt.**_

_We'll have to._

A line of smaller gunpod drones lined up in front of the first turret and opened fire. Rourke spun just above their line of fire and twirled the Seraph like a top. Twin bolts of nova laserfire lanced out, demolishing each target with well-placed aim.

The hoverturret loomed into view. Rourke charged up to a multi-lock and fired. Five concentrated bolts slammed into the artillery and charred the metal to a burnished husk. The destroyed weapon fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

"That's one." Rourke said. Another targeted blip disappeared on the opposite side of the city not long after that.

_"Two." _Milo corrected him. There was no cheer in his usually charismatic tone.

The flight to the final artillery pieces was quiet. Their destruction carried only numbers over the airwaves.

_"Three."_

"Four." Rourke concluded. He relayed one last mental command and disengaged Merge Mode. His mind became his own once more, and the Arwing's senses faded away, leaving only the familiar display of his HUD in front of him.

"Dana, the skies are clear." Rourke informed their resident test pilot.

_"Good." _Dana chirped. _"It's high time I gave these bastards a little payback."_

_"Dana, hang on!" _Milo cried out. _"Don't do this alone. Wait for backup!"_

_"Screw your backup." _Dana snarled. _"They took Carl. They just took out Terrany. This is personal."_

Her radio went silent.

"Damnit!" Rourke swore. "This team's full of hot-heads!"

_"The way we're flying, there's not going to be a team for much longer."_ Milo observed laconically.

* * *

_CSC_

"Internal power's starting to give, General!"

General Kagan drummed his fingers on his armrest. "How's the Starfox team faring? Have they taken out the Primals yet?"

"They just took out the last of the Anti-Air units. It's just the smaller skirmish aircraft, a few tanks spread out here and there, and that cruiser."

Kagan pursed his lips. "We'll have to risk it. Gentlemen, if any of you are particularly religious, pray that those Primals haven't taken down the power grid. Connect to the city's electrical grid and feed it to the shield emitters through the base reactor bypass!"

* * *

The Cornerian Space Command center existed within Corneria City, that much was true. A fact not commonly known to the population however, was that the CSC was powered primarily by an on-site nuclear reactor. Given the power needs for the command facility, especially its solid-state deflector shields, an independent power source from the city's main grid was a necessity. Even with this, however, the engineers had made it a point to route power relays to the CSC. Occasionally, the reactor had to be shut down for maintenance, and during those stretches, the reactor bypass relays allowed the CSC to continue its functioning of intelligence operations and command and control by drawing on Corneria City's network.

What had not been done, however, in all the years it had been in operation, was drawing on the grid while maintaining reactor operations. There'd been some talk among a fraction of the engineers who ran the reactor that it might lead to an overload.

With the deflector shields bleeding power from the siege, they didn't have much of a choice.

They needn't have worried.

Almost immediately, their weakening shields flared up with new life, gleaming defiantly as impact after impact found itself repulsed.

The Primal attack cruiser overhead was, for the moment, repelled.

* * *

_The Sundown_

The Primal captain let out an angry shriek. "Damn their eyes! Where's all that power coming from?!"

"I'm picking up significant electromagnetic flux in the surrounding area." Their sensor officer offered. He stared at his scope and let out a soft hoot. "It looks like they're using the city's power to reinforce their shielding. We won't be able to carve our way in now."

"Then trace that power source." The Primal captain growled. "We'll take it out and leave these Cornerian heretics to cower in their final moments. Where are those other Arwings, anyhow?"

"The two responsible for taking down our Anti-Aircraft turrets are closing in fast, and the third one…"

The ship was suddenly rocked by the explosion of a Cornite infused smart bomb.

The Captain fixed his hat and completed the sentence. "Was right below us, attacking from the streets."

"Yes, sir." The radar officer grimaced. "My apologies. Their radar signature disappears once they're below the skyscraper level."

"At ease." The captain remarked. He sat back down in his chair, and his eyes went hard. "They want to play it rough, do they? We can certainly oblige them. Set a course outside the city. We'll eliminate their skirmishing advantage by altering the terrain to our liking."

"Sir, I've got a fix on that power station!" The _Sundown's_ sensor officer called out. "The city's main generators are located on the eastern side of the metropolis…twelve kilometers out, I'm afraid."

"Beyond our range." The captain mused. He thought the situation over and issued his orders. "Continue course north to engage the Arwings in open terrain. Launch our last squadron of aerodrone fighter/bombers to take down that power plant. We'll see to these Arwing flies ourselves, and then eliminate their command center with one decisive strike!"

* * *

_McNabb Air Force Base_

_125 kilometers inland_

Corneria's main military airport, Cornelius AFB, had been one of the first places hit. Orbital bombardment had turned the gem of the Space Defense Forces into flaming and broken buildings surrounded by smoldering skeletal airframes.

In spite of the rise in Cornerian military power in the Lylat System, it had been the main base; in many ways, the only base.

McNabb had been established fifteen years before as a hidden structure, one which would survive the worst case scenario.

The Primal Invasion was clearly that. McNabb took advantage of the natural caverns that permeated Corneria's surface. Since their civilizations' earliest days, Cornerians ran and hid in the caves when trouble came. It made sense that their last resort would follow the same logic…even if it only served as a storage depot for surplus aircraft and surplus pilots off the fast track.

Colonel Whitwood had been monitoring the radio. Minutes after their sudden and epic reappearance, the Starfox team had taken out the bulk of the Primal's tank brigade and shot down all their AA positions. They'd made it safe to fly over Corneria City.

Whitwood, a surly badger long delegated as an armchair commander, had had enough of sitting around and waiting. So had all his men.

They were done hiding.

The old badger reached a paw down and hit the P.A. mike in his office. "All pilots, prepare for launch. We're taking back Corneria City."

Even inside his supposedly soundproof office, he could hear the cheers echo about the caves. Colonel Whitwood allowed himself a grin when he released the squawk button. He stood up and walked out to the bases' command center: A transparisteel structure embedded in the southern wall of the main cave eighteen meters above the floor on support struts. The crew on duty glanced up at him, eager for orders. The badger snuffed his whiskers for a second before giving one out. "Open the hatch doors. Warm up the magrails. Prep for quick-launch procedures."

One of the youngest troopers in the room beamed widely. "Yes, Sir!"

It was almost a choreographed dance. Pilots rushed out to their Dynamo class atmospheric defense fighters, several degrees less complex than the high-performance and high cost Arwings. One by one, their delta-wing aircraft roared to life and taxied to the center of the base.

In a sight that would have made bystanders stop and stare in amazement, or remark that they'd seen too many movies with secret bases inside volcanoes, the roof of their well-lit cave began to open up. This was McNabb AFB's great secret. In an emergency situation, powerful hydraulic motors forced open the stone-covered reinforced roof of the base. In peacetime, they'd used it to bring in VTOL transports, but in times of war…as it was doing now…

It was how they launched all available aircraft in less than four minutes.

_"Magrail deployment system ready. All nonessential personnel, clear the main chamber. All nonessential personnel…"_

"Never thought I'd ever see this." Whitwood murmured.

The first two fighters took position at the center of the central hangar cave, directly on top of a well-marked metallic circle. It began humming powerfully, and the flight deck crew scrambled away from the platform just in time to avoid the powerful artificial gravity field the deck plate produced.

Now firmly rooting the aircraft to the spot, the central platform lifted up and swiveled back halfways, pointing the two fighters straight up through the central hole in the cavern's roof. Held in place by the artificial gravity, the fighters hung suspended like flies on the wall.

Their engines roared to life, belching flames down the hole that the hovering, self-sufficient platform had been covering. The reservoir to contain the flames redirected the hot exhaust through connected tunnels underneath the base, forcing the heat out and away. Some residual heat would rise up through the stone floor, giving all in the base a mild case of hot foot.

In the winter, Colonel Whitwood smiled, it was a terrific way to keep the base warmed up.

Right as the Dynamo fighters reached full thrust, the platform disengaged its hold on their airframes. They shot off like rockets, soaring through the cave's open canopy. The platform descended and took position for the next launch.

All twenty Dynamo atmospheric fighters only took five minutes and forty-three seconds to send off. Colonel Whitwood toggled the command room's radio to their frequency. "All right, men. Your former designations are temporarily suspended. Captain Bridges, you are Strike 1. All other aircraft will carry that designation in ascending numbers."

Strike 2 through 20 radioed their confirmations, and McNabb's radar soon read their new IFF tags when they switched over. Colonel Whitwood smiled, a dangerous thing coming from a badger. "Good luck, men. Go smoke some Primals for us, and back up the Starfox team."

He cut off the radio, and the crew in the command center gave him an odd look.

Their radar operator asked the unspoken question. "Why didn't you tell him the Starfox team's already lost a fighter?"

"Arwings are more than a plane." The Colonel remarked, moving to his seat. He eased himself into it with a sigh. "They're a symbol. If I told them the truth, they'd lose their will to fight, or they'd lose their cool. And right now, we need them fighting smart. Not angry."

* * *

_Corneria City_

High above Corneria City, riding the top edge of the planet's atmosphere, the _Wild Fox_ watched everything below with an appraising eye.

It saw the Primal's desperate maneuver more clearly than the Starfox team could have on its own.

"Given the course of the enemy fighters, there is an 82 percent probability they are headed towards that power station." ROB reported calmly.

Sitting in the captain's chair, Wyatt rubbed at his throat pouch and frowned. "Why, though? It doesn't make any sense for them to break off the attack on the CSC…"

"…Unless the CSC is drawing power from the city's power grid to feed the shield." One of the military crewmembers piped up. The heir to Arspace threw a surprised glance at the rabbit, who shrugged calmly. "It's not general knowledge, but headquarters can feed off of local power reserves in an emergency."

"Well, that'd explain the jump in their power output." Wyatt grumbled. He thumbed his radio. "Starfox Team, this is Wyatt. Do you read?"

_"We hear you, _Wild Fox. _What's the situation?" _Milo Granger came back.

"The Primals just launched a set of fighters to take out Corneria City's main power station on the east end of the city's outskirts. If they drop it, the shield protecting Cornerian Space Command will die. Can you take care of it?"

_"Damnit, we're spread too thin as it is!" _Rourke snapped.

_"Take it easy, hoss." _Milo answered coolly. _"I'm already on the eastern side of the city. You go ahead and fly to meet up with Dana. I'll keep the power station safe."_

"Are you sure, Sarge?" Wyatt croaked. "I'm counting eight fighters headed your way."

_"Then I'll need eight shots. Get going, Rourke. I'll handle this."_

Wyatt leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "Eight shots? What kind of cocky, self-assured nut is that raccoon, anyways?"

Doctor Sherman Bushtail, the simian who'd served as the flight surgeon aboard Ursa Station, glanced up from his readings. "You don't know?"

Wyatt expanded his throat pouch and let out a loud warbling ribbit. "What, you think I'd know? I deal with machines, not people."

"Well, you knew he was regular Cornerian Army before he joined up, right?"

"Something that I never understood. What does a ground pounder have that makes him a perfect candidate for the next-generation Arwing?"

"Precision, grace, and focus." Dr. Bushtail declared ominously. "All traits he developed in his former career. There's a reason he said he only needed eight shots, Wyatt." The simian's bright eyes dimmed ever so slightly as he continued on. "According to his medical files, Milo Granger was the second-ranked rifleman and sharpshooter in the Regular Army." Dr. Bushtail paused, waiting for a sign of recognition.

He dropped the nail in the coffin. "He's a sniper. One shot…one kill."

* * *

He'd once been asked to describe the thoughts that went through his head when he pulled the trigger. _What did it feel like to kill someone from two miles away?_

Sergeant Granger had thought back to the Papetoon Uprising nearly 10 years before to think of how best to answer the query. It had been a bloodbath from the start; Papetoon, home to the Starfox team in the very earliest days of the Lylat Wars, had refused to sit under the authority of the growing Cornerian empire's flag. The planetary resistance had been crushed, thoroughly and utterly.

His official kill count had been listed as 23 dead. Milo's personal kill count spoke a different story.

32 Papetoon separatists had been blown away in the crosshairs of his scoped high-velocity laser rifle.

Milo's answer to that question then was the same as it was now.

He felt nothing.

That same detachment had bled into his ODAI. Every AI installed into the Seraphs picked up traits from their pilots. Rourke's had become snippy and prone to backtalk, Dana's had become a thrill junkie.

The ODAI aboard Milo's Seraph Arwing kept the same mechanical, monotone presence it had begun with. There was nothing different in Milo's approach for it to learn.

Milo felt his senses expand as his ODAI Merged with him. He felt the wings expand and the nova lasers power up, and quickly tapped in a specialized modification he'd been meaning to try out.

The nova lasers sharpened their focus, and channeled everything through his central buffer circuit. His primary nose cannon became the focal point for every bit of energy they put out.

A single beam of laserlight lanced through the sky from the hovering Arwing's nose, completely suspended in the G-Negation field…The perfect, motionless gun platform.

Everything faded out.

Nothing mattered but the shot.

The first focused blast screamed out, shooting forward like a javelin. It passed cleanly through one of the aircraft. Unlike the Snubs, these had pilots in them.

Or used to. Three milliseconds after the shot pierced clean through its fuselage, the first target disintegrated into a fireball.

"One." The Arwing's nose swung about ever so slightly and fired again. It covered the kilometers as fast as the last one, and shattered a second Primal fighter before the squadron had even reacted to the first kill. "Two."

The pack was beginning to take evasive maneuvers; closing the distance faster, they jinked and bobbed in a pattern that made it hard to gauge a clear shot.

Milo focused in on the lead plane and fired, aiming for where it would be not long after. His systems screamed a warning at him; firing his concentrated laser darts, something that his Arwing hadn't even been built for, was straining the buffer circuits to the breaking point.

The last shot missed the lead plane. It struck an unlucky wingman behind the flight lead, and a third target vanished from the scope.

Milo wanted to fire another shot. Even with them dashing in every direction, he was sure that he could have landed another hit, had his systems allowed it.

They were too low to launch a G-Bomb; the explosion would tear apart buildings and the ground below, sucking it all into the blast. He only had one choice left.

They closed in, five demons out for his blood and the death of the power station he'd moved to protect. He switched his lasers to standard operations and let the capacitors cool down from the overheating of three dart shots.

_I am detecting a buildup in their weapons systems._

_**Good. I'd hate to think they'd make this easy on us.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

The Primal contingent on the ground had fanned out. Two moved to investigate Terrany's Seraph Arwing, poking and prodding at the unresponsive controls in the open cockpit.

_"These bastards keep poking my switches…I've got the ship in full lockdown. The only one messing around with any controls is me."_

Terrany kept her ears flattened against her helmet. With two of them busy, that meant there were three she had to deal with immediately. How she was going to do that without being roasted or skewered was the real question.

Their search pattern gave her an opening, and Terrany made a dash further into the store. She was headed for the furniture department, by the looks of it.

Her hair stood on end right as KIT, ever watchful with the Seraph's cameras, sighted trouble. _"Look out, kid! They've spotted you!"_

Terrany threw herself into a crouching roll just in the nick of time. Laserblasts slashed where she'd been running and splintered a cabinet to sawdust. To stop moving would mean death, so Terrany didn't. In a moment of pure reflex, she came out of her roll and dodged past a standing display of bedroom cabinets, avoiding the rest of the scathing attack. Her chest screamed painfully at her again. Yeah, had to be some broken ribs there.

The McClouds had one trait above all others that made them ace pilots. They had a sixth sense about them when it came to dodging and weaving. The family mantra, appropriately enough, still applied.

_Never give up. Trust your instincts._

She thumbed the trigger on her pistol, and felt the grip warm slightly as the capacitors began to build up a charge shot.

_"Femnoor uz dat! Shredna ge's mal!"_ One of the Primals snarled.

Fighting off the pounding in her ears, Terrany managed to whisper a raspy message to KIT. "I didn't understand that, but it didn't sound good."

_"Trust me, it isn't." _KIT assured her. _"The three closing in on you are splitting up. Two are coming…"_

Terrany poked her head up just enough to see two of the armored Primal troopers closing in from her left flank. "I see them. And number three?"

_"I lost sight of him, but he was ducking into…Terrany, _behind you!"

Terrany whirled and fired on reflex, but the shot was well aimed. The charged pistol shot slammed into his armor and caused a personal deflective shield to flare up for a moment before the shot went through. A smoking impact point appeared on the side of his stomach plate, and the Primal fell to the ground, dead from the shock.

The attack only seemed to make the other two angrier, and a hail of shots landed all around her. Terrany swore and dashed further into the store. She passed out of furniture and through racks upon racks of clothing…clothing which soon caught fire as photonic discharges tore through them. One blast came close enough to singe the fur on the back of her hand, and Terrany took that as her cue to duck for cover. The burning racks of discount shirts and skirts did a phenomenal job of kicking up obscuring smoke, which made it both hard to see and breathe.

Eyes watering from the smoke, Terrany kept low to the ground. "I…I can't see…"

_"Take it easy, kid. That's why you've got me." _It was reassuring to Terrany to know that she wasn't entirely alone. _"They're closing in on you, but it looks like they can't pick you out. The smoke's too thick for it."_

"That doesn't…" Terrany coughed, and pressed herself lower to the ground. "…make me feel much better."

The smoke in the room finally rose high enough to trigger the smoke detectors, and a sprinkler system kicked on, dousing the entire warehouse with water and switching on every alarm possible.

_**"A fire has been detected. Warning; a fire has been detected. Please evacuate C-Mart in a quick and orderly fashion. We hope this experience will not keep you from visiting our fine stores in the fut…"**_

_"Oh, tell me I'm not hearing an advertisement during an evacuation notice!" _KIT snorted derisively. _"Now I _know _Corneria's gone to pot."_

The fires now extinguished, Terrany wiped her bloodshot eyes and gripped her pistol tighter. "No smoke means…"

The Primal troopers turned the corner of the smoldering clothes racks and turned their weapons towards her. She raised her pistol and fired, but without a charge, the shots bounced off harmlessly.

Like a deer in the headlights, Terrany watched as their rifles zeroed in on her.

_"Terrany!"_ KIT screamed.

Terrany finished her thought, never hearing KIT's frantic cry. _**No smoke means they can see me just as well as I can see them.**_

The sound of two rifle-sized laser bolts screamed through the building.

* * *

_The Sundown_

"Sir, two of the Arwings have broken off from Corneria City. They're headed right for us! Time to intercept, one minute!"

The Primal Captain narrowed his eyes. A quick glance at the radar station told the story; the third of the surviving silver-winged ships was battling their last squadron and blocking the path to the power station. With the first two breathing down their necks, they'd run out of options. "Nothing else to do now. Open a channel, broad-frequency. I want those Arwings to hear me."

A squelch later, the captain had his wish. "Arwings of Lylat." He snapped. "If you wish to live for a few more days, turn around and come back the way you came, or else we'll swat you down as easily as we did your friend."

A snarling wolf's face appeared on their monitors in reply. _"Not happening, you freak. That was our friend you took down. We hold grudges."_

"You hold nothing that will help you survive."

Rourke started to snap a retort, then shook it off and smiled grimly. "I'll get back to you."

The Primal captain was left blinking as the communication line switched off. "What did he mean by that?" He muttered under his breath.

The tactical officer shrieked, snapping him from his thoughts. "Incoming orbital bombardment!"

"What?!" The captain finally realized the danger. "Damnit, their mothership! Evasive maneuvers, activate shields! And fire the Dispersal Charges!"

The lumbering _Sundown_ slowly began to turn out of harm's way, but it did them little good. The first salvo of blistering rays cut through the atmosphere and sliced deep into the hangar, between the starboard wing and the main fuselage. Explosions tore through the ship's wiring, and the ship's systems flickered.

Back on the bridge, the Captain picked himself up off of the decking, nursing a monstrous headache. "Damage report." His voice cracked.

"They got our hangar. It's scrap now, it'd take us days to repair!"

"And our other systems?"

"Intact." His first officer noted. "The Dispersal Charges launched, and they've reached optimum altitude." He checked his viewer and smiled. "Charges successful. We won't have to worry about that mothership of theirs again."

"No, just the Arwings." The Captain growled. He sat back in his chair. "Convert the ship to attack mode. We're done fooling around."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Cornerian Orbit_

"We nailed 'em good, but they threw up some rockets. It's created a diffusive field of particles in the atmosphere above them." The lynx at the weapons station flicked his tail angrily. "Our shots aren't making it through! They hit the cloud and stop!"

Wyatt pounded the armrest of his chair. "Damnit. Out-thought again. They really came prepared! You get that last part, Rourke?"

_"Yeah. Can't say I'm surprised, considering how they've had the edge on us since Ursa." _Rourke kept his voice level. _"Looks like we're on our own for this part. Thanks for trying."_

"We did hit them, Rourke. Hopefully you'll have an easier time of it." Wyatt offered in consolation. "We'll hold station up here in case the Primals toss some more reinforcements our way."

_"You have any on radar?"_

"No." Wyatt expanded his throat pouch. "Doesn't mean there won't be. Good luck, Rourke."

_"We lost Terrany, Wyatt. My luck ran out when she crashed."_

The communications officer cleared his throat. "He closed the line."

The lynx at weapons control frowned. "You think she's dead?"

Wyatt took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I don't know." He admitted. "Those Seraphs have a lot of next-gen construction in 'em, but Arwings have always been on the flimsy side. She might be dead. Fact is, the only thing keeping me from writing her off completely is that we didn't pick up an explosion when she went down."

"So she might still be alive?" The lynx brightened up.

It was Dr. Bushtail, the simian flight surgeon who put a damper on the room's tenuous hopes.

"I stopped receiving EKG and heart rate data from Terrany's medical transponder when those fireworks tore her Arwing apart. If she is alive…she's hanging onto a thread in the wreckage."

* * *

_Corneria City_

The surviving five fighters closed in on Milo's Arwing, the sole defender for the power station. The ship's systems lit up with radar alarms as they opened fire, thirsty for revenge.

His emotions in check, Milo let his Arwing take a sheer drop one hundred meters low. Every blast went far too high to hit, and before they could react, the nose of his ship began to spin about, tracking on the center ship.

_**All too easy.**_

The group split off into two groups, banking hard left and right. It did them little good. Firing normal nova laser bolts, Milo pivoted his Arwing on its central axis and lanced the lead ship and its wingman with charged energy. The two ships, smoking and disintegrating in midair, blew off their canopies and ejected two life pods.

Milo targeted the pilots' fragile ejection pods. The Arwing's forward-looking cameras had them well in his sights. He hesitated, thinking, for a full half second.

In Merge Mode, that half second was almost an eternity.

The Seraph's nose finally swung out around to the three remaining fighters. They had flew around him while he was occupied, and the ship's advanced detection systems screamed that they were painting the power station with targeting lasers for their munitions.

A thought charged up his nova lasers and engaged the multi-lock system. All three surviving ships were marked inside red boxes, and the nose of his ship glowed with a white hot fireball.

"End of the line." Milo said flatly. He fired.

The charged laser bolt flew ahead for forty meters, then split apart into three smaller shots. Each tracked in on a different target. At the last moment, the bombers had realized the danger and tried to disengage.

It did them no good. Each vanished in a glowing blast of white hot light, vaporized.

Milo shut his eyes, and let Merge Mode slip away from him. His secondary wings folded back into the main silver wings of his ship, and there was a slight jolt as the plasma thrusters reinitialized and fired, driving him forward again. The familiar wince as his consciousness was dropped back into his body passed quickly, and then ODAI's comforting voice spoke to him.

_"All targets confirmed destroyed. Time of engagement: Seven seconds."_

"I'm getting slow." Milo muttered. The raccoon opened his eyes and keyed in his mike. "This is Granger. All Primal fighters destroyed. General Kagan, warn the ground forces to be on the lookout for two Primal fighter pilots in the vicinity of the power station."

_"Acknowledged, pilot." _Came General Kagan's grateful voice. _"You really saved our asses. I didn't expect there'd be survivors, though…Given what they did, I thought you'd relish blowing them apart."_

"We're not animals, General." Milo replied, offering a small half-smile at the very dry joke. It faded quickly enough, and he swiveled his Arwing around. "Rourke, do you need me?"

_"Get here as soon as you can, Milo. Things are going to get interesting."_

"Roger." Milo opened up the throttle and activated the boosters, burning a course hard and fast northwest to the other two and the waiting Primal command cruiser.

It didn't stop him from glancing over his left shoulder and looking down into the city streets below, towards the area where Terrany's ship had last been seen. Smoke and fires rose up all around it.

_"It is unlikely that user Terrany McCloud survived." _His ODAI remarked blandly.

"For once, ODAI, I pray to Lylus you're wrong." The ring-tailed raccoon breathed.

* * *

The sound of two rifle-sized laser bolts screamed through the building.

The last McCloud ducked on what could only be instinct. They missed Terrany by such a narrow margin that the top of her helmet was shot off. What was left of it fell uselessly to the ground, and Terrany raised her pistol up and started firing.

Their personal shields flared to life, deflecting away the rounds that impacted against their heads and torsos.

Unfortunately, the shield did not protect their rifles. One well-placed shot buried itself into the charge pack of the left trooper's rifle, and a furious whine filled the air.

The Primal's eyes went wide as he stared at his weapon. _"Fagh! To'mal re dafrey!"_

Terrany didn't speak Primal, but she caught the meaning. "Oh, geez." She spun about and ran for cover. A tremendous explosion threw her the rest of the way and singed the hair on the back of her head; she could smell it when she fell on her side, where she'd twisted at the last moment to keep from landing on her already injured front ribs.

A flare of pain still claimed her vision for one long moment, and then KIT was in her ear again. _"Kid! Respond!"_

"I'm alive." Terrany answered sluggishly. She blinked a few times, licked her right paw, and pressed it against the back of her head. A hiss of steam cut out the flames burning away her headfur. "Their weapons can explode."

_"Yeah, I kind of figured that part out." _The AI snapped. _"The good news is, that little stunt of yours took them out."_

Terrany pushed herself up to her feet and set her pistol to charge again; she was done fooling around, and the way her body was screaming at her, adrenaline was going to stop helping her out in short order.

She glanced around a battered clothing rack and stared to where the Primal troopers had been standing. By the looks of it, they'd thrown the weapon down and tried to run.

What was left of them was sprawled out running in the opposite direction. Their shields hadn't been able to protect them from the overload.

"Yeah, it looks like." Terrany felt the edges of her vision go black, and she forced oxygen into her lungs, shaking against the pain. _No, you can't fall asleep here. Not now…_ "Kit, I'm…I think I'm in…trouble here."

_"You gotta hold it together a little longer, sport. Can you do that?"_

Terrany's vision thankfully cleared up, and she could see the last two Primals charging over from her Arwing towards the source of the explosion. "Do I have a choice, Falco?" She snapped, turning about and making a slow retreat further into the store.

_"We don't have that kind of luck."_

Terrany made a sweep of her surroundings; Electronics department. Full of things that could break and crackle, but nothing that could explode with enough force to take them out again, and she didn't want to risk her neck on the chance that she'd make a lucky shot and hit their rifles again. After witnessing the explosion from before, they would likely be far more cautious. Probably chuck it at her as soon as a shot landed.

She didn't want to be on the receiving end of that, especially without a personal shield.

_Fall back on your combat training. Outnumbered and cornered; making a stand's the stupid plan. _

Deception, however…and traps…

Terrany glanced at a row of large flatscreen televisions on the second shelf of a display. Each had to weigh close to one hundred kilograms.

Her energy failing, Terrany slipped on a smile and lurched towards the TV's. A soft beep from the pistol in her hand told her that it had finished building up the energy for a charge shot. "Standby, Kit."

_"What else am I gonna do, huh?" _The AI scoffed.

The last two Primals in the building kept close by each other, moving slowly and patiently. Their weapons were kept in the ready position, and to their credit, they kept their fields of fire separate with only a bit of overlap. They were expecting Terrany to jump out at them.

When they reached a section of the store full of visual communications equipment, however, the Arwing pilot had failed to materialize. She was probably hiding, they decided…so silence and patient watchfulness would be their best chance of finding and destroying her.

Step by step, and with eyes scanning in every direction, they kept moving forward.

They heard the pained grunt just as both of them glanced something moving fast in the corner of their vision. A glance upward showed a massive television as wide across as four troopers starting to tilt forward off of a shelf, ready to fall towards them.

The troopers opened fire, pouring laser shots into the structure. It sparked, it smoked, but in a testament to its durability, did not give way. The device finally gave into gravity and began to fall.

_"Tosh!"_ One of them screamed, and they both tried to lunge out of the way. One did…the other didn't. He was crushed under the weight, and his sparking shield sputtered out. It had been built to resist weapons fire, not a heavy piece of machinery.

The surviving Primal let out a scream and raised his rifle towards the hole in the display of TV's.

Terrany's pistol went off before his own weapon had even finished tracking in. The charged bolt slammed into the soldier's chest, burned the shield out, and roasted him alive.

Terrany McCloud slumped against the metal brace of the shelf as the last Primal fell backwards, a smoking corpse. "Done." She wheezed, feeling the word fall off of her like a tremendous weight. The pain from her injuries began to sink in, and she collapsed on the shelf, managing to land in a sitting position.

_"You all right?"_

"I feel like Hell."

_"Yeah, you look like Hell from here."_ KIT chuckled. _"Can you make it back?"_

"Just…give me a moment…to catch my breath." She panted.

More noise interrupted the silence…A second Primal transport pulled up outside, next to the first.

Terrany stared at her pistol. Only a forty percent charge left. Not enough. She shut her eyes. "Kit, I…"

_"I see them too."_

"I think this is it. I can't take on another squad."

_"You have to, kid. You gotta survive."_

"Says who?" Terrany managed a weak, defeated laugh. "You know what they say about McClouds these days, Falco? We all die. We all die in battles just like this one. Outgunned, outnumbered…hopelessly outmatched. Grandpa died like that, my dad died like that…Even Carl."

_"So you think you've got to be Number Four in the hit parade?!" _KIT scowled. _"That's a load of crap. You want to curl up and die, that's your problem. But if you go out like that, you're taking away all the courage and determination that made the Starfox team legendary. No McCloud has ever died defending Corneria from invaders, and I'm _not about _to let some whiny, weepy girl with insecurities start today!"_

The last sentence was harsh, but it had the desired effect. Terrany's eyes opened back up, and began to burn. "Excuse me?"

_"Oh, I get it. You're not as _good_ as the others, huh? The subpar McCloud?"_

"Shut up." Terrany snarled. She glanced at the second transport; the troopers inside hadn't moved yet. "You don't know me."

_"I don't, huh?" _KIT mused. _"Prove me wrong, then. Get off your ass and get moving."_

Terrany used a shaky arm and pushed herself off of the shelf. A short hop brought a flare of new pain, but she kept herself up on will alone. "You're a real ass."

_"You should've seen me in my prime."_

Terrany kept moving forward, trying to keep her upper body as stable as possible while moving step after step. "Any ideas?"

_"You don't want to fight them, that's fine. Get to the ship."_

"You've got it…ready?"

_"Good enough. I can give us partial shielding, and the generator's charging again. A snap of my so-called fingers will get the thrusters burning."_

"Weapons?"

_"You're down to the nose laser. The crash did more damage to the interlink than I thought it had."_

"It'll have to do."

Terrany ducked to the side as the first of the new wave stepped out from their transport. They had probably tried to contact the now dead squadron, and were coming in to investigate.

_"Stick to the side routes. Once they realize you've abandoned the fighter, they'll follow the trail of bodies back to…"_

A very loud rumbling came in from the building's exterior. The Primals began shouting, sounding panicked.

Terrany peered out from behind cover again just as the two transports were transformed into fireballs. The explosion rattled the building, and the Primal reinforcements ceased to exist.

The albino McCloud stared. "Mother of…"

_"New contact outside…It's one of ours! It's Cornerian!"_

A massive tank rolled over the wreckage of the small vehicles, and three Cornerian army reserve troopers hopped out and walked into the store through the gaping hole.

"Sir, we've found an Arwing! It looks like it crashed!" One of them called back outside.

"Rescue the pilot! We're not losing the Starfox team today!"

Terrany broke out into a relieved grin. "I don't believe it."

_"Neither can I. But don't just stand there, get going."_

Moving along as fast as her wounds allowed, Terrany made her way to her Arwing. The Cornerian military forces saw her coming.

"We've got her! She's injured, Major!"

Terrany kept smiling as the troopers-_their troopers-_ surrounded her. "Take it easy, would you? I'm not dead yet."

The one closest to her looked relieved. "Good. When we heard an Arwing went down, we feared the worst. Are you…"

"Terrany Anne McCloud." She confirmed, lowering her pistol to her waist. "My fighter's in pretty bad shape; think you can tow it out for me?"

_"Oh, no. No, you are _NOT _having these ground-pounders tie a hook onto this plane and…Terrany, I'm warning you!"_

The last McCloud chuckled. "On second thought, just widen the hole. I'll fly out of here myself. But I could use one favor."

"Name it." The tankman slapped her on the back, and a fresh wave of stars passed over her eyes. She came to, only with the trooper holding her arm. "Are you all right?"

"I got banged up a bit." She finally admitted. Terrany felt her legs giving out under her. The trooper kept her up.

"Medic! MEDIC!"

Terrany felt the blackness coming back on the edges of her vision. "Call the others. Let'm know…I'm…ive…"

She felt very tired. The darkness was welcome.

* * *

Down, but not out. That was a very good way to describe the Primal attack cruiser. Hidden ports on the ventral sides of the ship opened up and sprouted a formerly unknown set of guns. What made it worse was that not all of them were the same…and the opening spray caught both Rourke and Dana off their guard. The first shots were avoided, but instead of trailing on harmlessly, they exploded behind the Arwings, showering them with scraps of hot metal that ate away at their shields.

"Jinking left!" Rourke shouted out, turning his fighter away from the trail of the followup shot. Dana took a bit more of a pounding before she too finally cleared out of the thing's gunsights. "Damnit, they're shooting flak rounds!"

"Flak?! Who in the Creator's green world uses _flak_ anymore?!" Dana hollered.

"If it's not broke…" Rourke muttered, more to himself than for Dana's sake. "I'll go high, you go low. And don't take the direct approach if you can help it. Our shields can't…"

"I know, I know!" The tigress threw her ship into an inverse Immelmann and made for the carrier. "Charging lasers."

"Roger." Rourke made his own sharp banking turn and came down at the carrier from an angle. His early warning system detected a missile launch on the top of the ship's starboard side, and he thumbed the trigger for his munitions. "Firing smart bomb." The Arwing gave only the barest shudder as the launcher fired a red-hued Cornite charge into the fray. Rourke triggered the explosion early, about sixty meters shy of the ship, and roasted all the outbound missiles before they could track in. He also held in his gun trigger, and prepped his own green ball of laserlight at the nose of his Seraph.

Through the firestorm of his making, his sensors had no trouble locking onto the offending launch port. "Here's something for you!" The laserbolt tracked through the smoke and debris and exploded, slightly warping and discoloring the hull around the launch rack. It was definitely going to take some more punishment before it went offline. "Dana, go full fire. This ship was built to soak trouble." Rourke squeezed off a few bolts, then veered off behind the ship. It managed to fire off another salvo of missiles to trail in his wake, but a loop at the last moment made them sail off harmlessly.

"Nice dodge, Rourke!" Dana cheered him on, blasting her own section of the ship's weapons array with a full stream of hyper laserfire. Unlike Rourke, she waited until the last possible moment to turn away from collision. The risky maneuver paid off with handsome dividends...

…Because the port missile bank overheated and tore the ship apart. A rush of flame and pressure threw Dana's Arwing well clear and caused her shields to flare at the same time. When she finally balanced herself out, the damage was starkly clear; a gaping hole in the ship allowed her to see clear to the very bottom of the keel.

Dana Tiger banked her Seraph and stared down past her right arm to the maelstrom below. A cloud of smoke rose up, and she spun around it with a satisfied grin. "That hurt him!"

* * *

_Primal Cruiser Sundown_

They had long since shut off the alarms, but the fire control systems couldn't keep up with the acrid smoke. A thin mist of water mixed with the pollutant and made something almost like a thick black fog. Visibility had dropped to ten feet, which was enough for operations to continue.

"They took out our port missile bay! Casualties are tremendous! Our power grid is fluctuating!"

"It doesn't matter!" The captain snarled, coughing as he raised his uniform up to cover his mouth from the burning smells. "We have shot down one Arwing in the name of our Lord of Flames. All we can do now is destroy the rest, or _die in the attempt!" _

The bridge crew fell silent, save the captain's loud breathing.

"Fire everything. Fill the sky with our divine fire." He said. "There is no going back now. There is only death, and we will be welcomed when we carry the souls of our Lord's hated enemies behind us."

* * *

What was left of the enemy cruiser unloaded everything it had. Rourke and Dana both turned and furiously weaved as a wave of flak, missiles, and laserfire streamed out at them. The cruiser had turned itself around on sputtering engines, slowly leading its forward facing cannons at Dana.

"Rourke, I'm taking hits here!" The tigress yowled.

"Keep it together, just a bit longer!" Rourke urged her. He was already spinning around for another assault, and the missile bay was in his sights again. Another Smart Bomb took out the latest cloud of projectiles flying for him, and he flew through the hazy red smoke of the Cornite explosion. He unleashed Hell on the ship's makeshift weak point, and was rewarded with an explosion as large as the first. The ship lurched groundwards, and the stream of fire ripping into Dana's Arwing was diverted. "Okay, break off now!"

_"This is Milo. You both might want to break off. I'm coming in hot and Merged."_

Rourke glanced down at his radar display, and suddenly noticed that Milo's Seraph had caught up to them. True to the raccoon's words, it was in Merge Mode, and that meant…

"Bomb?" Rourke asked, already veering off.

_"That's affirm. Get clear of the blast radius, this isn't going to be pretty."_

"You're using a G-Bomb planetside?! We've never tried that in the simulators!"

_"Well, they're getting a field test." _Milo growled. The noise sounded eery, thanks to the reverberating background noise from his connected ODAI. _"Firing in three…two…"_

"Shit!" Dana screamed. She triggered her boosters, and she and Rourke flew in opposite directions away from the floundering assault ship.

* * *

The G-Negator had charged the bomb launcher's capacitors to full with excess power, pushing the Cornite munitions within the chambered Smart Bomb to threshold levels. All it would take would be just a few last ergs of electromagnetic force before it would reach critical mass, and that last part was given at the moment of firing.

Merged again, but still far from the five minute limiter, Sergeant Milo Granger lined up the reticle one last time with the Primal cruiser's center of mass.

_"One."_

He fired, and even suspended within its own specialized gravitational field, the Seraph Arwing shuddered at launch.

Milo de-Merged as soon as the projectile was away, and there was only a slight discomforting twinge from his efforts. He watched it track in, and marveled at the sight.

He'd never seen a bomb glow that shade of blue before.

* * *

The Gravity Bomb tracked in, and even though the Primal cruiser tried to avert, it did them little good. Milo had aimed the strike too true, anticipating their likely escape route.

There had been legitimate fear that use of the G-Bomb in atmospheric, planetary combat was too risky. The G-Bomb had been designed as a dual purpose weapon; draw in enemies, and then wipe them out in a massive explosion. It was the way it drew them in that had prompted so much worry.

Not many people in the R&D labs were thrilled with the idea of creating a micro singularity, even temporarily, within a planet's magnetosphere. There were countless doomsday philosophies posed from the topic, but none of them came true.

The G-Bomb worked exactly as advertised. Upon impact, an initial implosion created a powerful miniature nuclear furnace, the size and shape of a large inflatable beach ball. It immediately ate away and vaporized everything close at hand, chewing another gaping hole into the cruiser's superstructure.

Then phase one of the weapon kicked in, and for four full seconds, the fireball sucked in everything around it with a gravitational pull that thrusters could not deny. The Arwings of Milo's teammates were, thankfully, too far away by then to be affected, but the cruiser was out of luck. Its engines screamed and finally exploded from the strain of fighting against the pull, and the ship was shaken apart even more.

The radio crackled. _"What have you done?!" _The Primal captain screamed. _"What kind of monsters are you?"_

"We're Starfox." Rourke O'Donnell snapped back, tired, angry, and ready for the conflict to be over. "And you're space dust."

Phase two of the G-Bomb went off, swallowing the cruiser in Cornite fueled nuclear fire.

The screams on the radio, thankfully, didn't last long.

High above the fading maelstrom, Rourke leveled off his Arwing and slumped back into his seat. His hand came up and rubbed at his eyes. "All aircraft…report."

"Dana. My shields got a little baked, but…I'm fine." Dana Tiger pulled her own Arwing up behind Rourke's.

Milo took up position on Rourke's other flank. "Granger. No problems here. Surviving Primal aircraft are in retreat…" He paused, then chuckled. "Oh, you're not going to believe this. I've got a wave of incoming aircraft flying right for the stragglers. They're Dynamos."

The radio came to life again. _"Starfox team, this is Strike Team Leader. Good job on the command cruiser. Leave the others to us."_

Rourke thumbed the communicator in his helmet. "Strike Team, this is Starfox. They're all yours." He glanced out to the horizon, where the Primal fighters were retreating. A distant line of specks was closing in on them, hungry for blood. "That's it, then." He breathed, back on the team's private band. "We're all done here."

_"Starfox team, this is General Kagan at the CSC. On behalf of the entire planet, I'd like to thank you. Your General Gray contacted us and told us your situation, but I didn't think you'd make it." _The voice let out a relieved laugh. _"This is probably the first time I've been glad to be wrong."_

"Yeah." Rourke muted his connection for a bit. "ODAI, you there?"

**"When am I not?" **Came his AI's snippy retort.

"Set for autopilot. Circle the city."

**"Roger."**The Seraph Arwing balanced out for a moment, and then went steady in a barely noticeable turn. Rourke switched the mute off.

"Anything else we can do for you, General?"

_"No, not for the moment. This city's in sorry shape, but we're still better off than the rest of the Lylat System."_

Milo and Dana glanced through their cockpits to each other, sharing a look. "How bad is it, General?"

_"We're still calculating. Our long range sensors got knocked out, so getting information is problematic. But based on what we do know…They've all but wiped us out. The 7__th__ Fleet had been stationed above Aquas, and they were completely annihilated."_

"The Seventh?" Dana repeated in horror. "That…That was Admiral Howling's. He was the best!"

_"Emphasis on was." _General Kagan agreed grimly. _"Right now, Starfox…you're all the assets we have available. Cornelius Air Force Base took a beating in the first strike, but it should suffice for the moment. Go ahead and land. I've provided clearance to your mothership to follow you in. We're going to have repair crews working around the clock to get Cornelius up and running again. Creator damn it all."_

Over their private channel, Dana sounded in. "I feel like we've just prolonged the inevitable."

"Hey, we gave Corneria a fighting chance." Milo reminded her. "That's something we didn't have before."

"There were four of us before." Rourke pointed out. His voice was tense with bitterness; Milo could hear it.

_"Hang on, Starfox…We're receiving a transmission from our ground unit."_ The CSC was silent for a bit, and then Kagan's voice returned. _"Apparently, Major Boskins and his men came across a group of Primals on the ground who were trying to loot a convenience store in the city. There was one item that they weren't able to check out. Two of them, actually."_

"What was that?" Rourke muttered.

_"A crashed Arwing in the store…and the pilot who flew it down. Terrany McCloud's alive. Injured, but alive. We'll get her to you at the _Wild Fox_ when it touches down. Go ahead and land, Starfox team. You've earned a rest."_

The channel with the Cornerian Space Command HQ squelched out, leaving Rourke, Dana, and Milo reeling in midair.

"She's alive?" Rourke uttered incredulously. "But…How?"

"There were four of us before, Rourke." Milo chuckled, breaking off from the pack. He boosted on ahead, and then turned for the ruined Cornelius AFB. "And there still are."

With the sun shining down on the wartorn Corneria City, the three Seraph Arwings turned and dove for their new terrestrial base.

It was good to be home.


	12. Plan of Attack

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWELVE: PLAN OF ATTACK

**The Great Fox**- The original flagship of the Starfox team, the Mark 1 Great Fox, was lost in the final hours of the Aparoid War when Peppy Hare crashed it into the energy barrier protecting the planet's core. The 75 year loan that James McCloud had taken out to pay for the ship was, of course, paid for by the Cornerian Air Force for "services rendered." In the years that followed, the Starfox team was given a standard flat-top cruiser for its use, but never again had a home like their original spaceship. Some historians postulate that the lack of a true "Great Fox" played a major part in the dissolution of the Starfox Team, and the subsequent enlistment of the McCloud line into the Cornerian Space Defense Forces. Though there were rumors that Arspace Dynamics, under the direction of an older and more mature Slippy Toad was pursuing the development of a second Great Fox, these amounted to little more than wishful thinking. The Starfox Team had passed on into history, and with them, their namesake cruiser.

**(From Slippy Toad's Personal Logs)**

"_**I wonder what my father would think if he knew that I was building this ship. Andross was a mad genius. Some of his ideas, he never got around to implementing, and I'm thankful for that. Had he made a fleet of ships that had been powered by the impulse vacuum drive I've developed using his notes…We wouldn't have stood a chance. Creator forgive me for what I do, but I owe a debt to Fox that I never got to pay back. "**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_Cornelius Air Force Base_

_5 km outside Corneria City_

_2 days later_

It had taken repair crews working around the clock to get Cornelius back and running to where it was now, but the scars of battle were still fresh in many parts of the base. Countless hangars remained bombed out wrecks, some still smoldering where fire crews had determined they posed no threat to the surrounding structures. The runway and the control towers had been the most important places, besides a clearing away of a vast stretch of debris on the concrete.

Where seven hangars had once stood proudly, a different ship now rested on sturdy landing struts.

The flagship of Corneria's saviors, the "Wild Fox", sat anchored, overseeing the facility. The bridge of the ship, centered in the jutting head of the mothership with its wide obsidian tinted windows, seemed to watch everything around it at once.

It even saw the approaching transport ship coming in, and heard the radio traffic as clear as day.

_"Ursa Transport, you are cleared to land. Take Runway 2. You may taxi to Wild Fox on landing."_

_ "Roger that, Cornelius. We're on final approach now."_

The squat, flat-nosed cargo ship came in on an easy vector, settling down on its back wheels, then the front set. A smooth and steady landing, all things considered.

It taxied over next to the Wild Fox's rear landing struts, powered down its engines, and popped the rear exit hatch.

Out of the transport poured some fifteen odd service personnel, all who had originally belonged on the Ursa Station crew. Most of them still had the same uniforms and work jackets from that now destroyed post.

In the midst of them, calmly walking along with a corncob pipe jammed in his teeth and the tobacco smoke puffing at a steady pace came General Grey, the former head of Ursa Station…

And the military commander responsible for the wildly successful, and now public, Project Seraphim.

"Let's get our equipment offloaded and get it into the hangar bay!" The general barked out. "Double time, people! We've got a solar system to save!"

More engineers and workers came out of the Wild Fox's rear hangar bay hatch, waving and calling out to friends they hadn't seen in what seemed like an eternity. The General scanned the crowd from the Wild Fox briefly, recognizing every face.

Moving fast through the crowd with a wide open grin and a look of triumph was the one person he wanted to see.

Wyatt Toad pulled up two meters short and threw the general a hasty salute. "Good to see you again, General."

General Grey offered a far more crisp salute. "Permission to come aboard, Mr. Toad?"

"Permission granted." Wyatt laughed, puffing out his throat pouch. General Grey rolled his eyes. Amphibians.

The two fell in step as they made their way towards the ship's entrance. "So, what do you think, General?"

"I think I'm having trouble believing that something like this was just sitting around in mothballs. It's a big son of a bitch. A ship this big just doesn't disappear."

"Well, you'd have to talk to my grandfather about that." Wyatt shrugged. "I didn't believe it much myself, but the fact is, this was the last grand hurrah from Arspace before the Cornerian SDF obtained system-wide domination."

"And without a Starfox team to fly it, dear old grandpa just decided to tuck it out of sight for a rainy day?" General Grey postulated with a growl. He ducked to the side to avoid being struck by a rather large crate of supplies being dragged along by some overeager beavers. "Watch it, you flat-tails!"

"Sorry, sir!" The first beaver offered apologetically. They were off like a shot, and General Grey shook his head.

"Should have taken that desk job."

"The fact is, General, without this ship, there wouldn't have been a rescue from Seraph flight."

"Or a Starfox team, according to O'Donnell's mission report." General Grey groused. "I'm not sure how happy I am about that, either. It's a big morale booster, no doubt, but it might not strike the right tone."

"What are you talking about?" Wyatt frowned. The two stepped up onto the mothership's loading ramp and headed inside the hangar. There was a minor twinge in the air as they passed through the protective force fields and into the air-conditioned interior of the ship. The noise inside was several decibels louder, and mechanics were swarming all about organizing their workspace. "The Starfox team's been saving this system since the Lylat Wars."

"And they're mercenaries." General Grey pointed out. "Guns for hire, almost no better than pirates. Historically, General Pepper was the sole point of contact and advocate for the Starfox team back in the Lylat Wars. It didn't say much about the strength of Corneria when they had to go and hire outside help to save their ass. That's part of the reason why we had the military buildup, the expansion…"

"The brutal crackdowns?" Wyatt finished, raising one eyebrow. The General glanced over to the webfooted mechanic. "You know, between hiring a team of ace pilots to save our ass or paying for a military who practices domination and control in peacetime, I'd rather go with the first."

Grey glanced off to the side, and decided to put that particular fight away for the time being. "How's the team doing? I need to meet with them."

"Oh, they're all doing fine." Wyatt returned to his chipper self. "I think they're all in the medical bay right now, visiting."

The General puffed out another lungful of tobacco smoke. "Terrany?"

"Terrany." Wyatt confirmed.

* * *

_Medical Bay_

_Wild Fox_

"It never ceases to amaze me how little you pilots value your health." Dr. Sherman Bushtail grumbled, pulling his handheld deep tissue scanner away from Terrany's chest. "You cracked _several_ of your ribs, suffered a slight concussion, minor contusions, internal hemorrhaging, and you pulled a calf muscle."

"Calf muscle?" Terrany blinked, feeling awkward enough sitting in a medical gown without the rest of her team standing around.

_"Remember? When you used your legs to push that TV on top of the last two in the store?"_

"Oh…right." Terrany nodded. She glanced down at herself. "Look, I feel fine now."

The Venomian primate harrumphed at the white-furred McCloud. "Of course you do. Even with these primitive tools, I can fix a damn broken rib or two."

"So can she leave?" Dana asked eagerly. The tigress knew, as only another woman could, that Terrany wanted nothing more than to be out of the antiseptic-scented room and out wandering the ship in freedom.

Dr. Bushtail frowned. "Look, when that cavalry unit rescued you, you were unconscious. I've done what I can to patch you back up, but the fact is you're nowhere near the top of your game."

"Doc, I want outta here." Terrany grimaced. "Or at least give me my clothes back."

"Hm." Milo managed a wizened smile. "There's that fighting spirit. We could have used you out there, Terrany. Those Primals play hard."

"They came prepared." Rourke added sternly. The wolf scratched the side of his snout and smiled. "Come on, Sherm. The girl's been cooped up in here long enough."

The simian managed his most disgruntled face possible. "Fine. You want to go against conventional wisdom, it's on your heads." He tucked his scanner away and pointed at Rourke. "But I'm going to tell you this, since you're her squadron leader, and probably the only person who she'll listen to. I don't want her flying for another 24 hours."

"What?!" Terrany exploded.

The doctor was unfazed by the outburst. "Look, Miss McCloud. You lost a lot of blood and energy back there. You came into it low on sleep and very hungry. If you don't want to give your body the bedrest it needs to finish the final stages of the Calcifuse injections I gave to you, then you can at least get some food in you, relax, and take it easy. You're young and you've got the boundless energy of a high school track star, but you don't screw around with injuries like the kind you sustained."

Terrany gave Rourke a pleading stare. "We don't have time for this! Those Primals are swarming over the Lylat System even as we speak!"

"Doctor's orders." Rourke cut her off smoothly. He folded his arms and nodded sympathetically. "We don't have a game plan yet, much less a firm grasp on how bad the situation is. For the time being, I'm signing off on Dr. Bushtail's advice. There's plenty to do here in the _Wild Fox_ as it is." The O'Donnell offered a compromise by looking to Dr. Bushtail. "Now, can she have her clothes back?"

"Humph." The simian pulled out a small bag and handed them over to Dana. "The back room is open. Terrany can get changed back there and out of sight. In the meantime, the rest of you? Get out. _Out!_" He punctuated his order by getting in front of Milo and Rourke and bodily shoving them towards the door.

The door hissed shut behind them, leaving the raccoon and the wolf standing in the corridor with odd looks marring their features.

"What was that all about?" Rourke muttered.

"Women." Milo shrugged, as if that one word answered everything. He started down the hall, and Rourke followed after the ring-tailed raccoon.

"Oh, yeah? Then what about Sherman? He's a guy."

"Him?" Milo thought about it for a moment. "He doesn't count." Rourke snorted, and cracked a rare smile that Milo reciprocated. "About time you lightened up. The way you were going for a while, I was afraid you were turning into General Grey."

"Oh, _Hell_ no." Just like that, the scowl was back. "Not a chance."

"Well, just saying." Milo drawled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You know, I've noticed something about you and Terrany."

"Oh?" Rourke asked. "What's that? Our flying styles?"

"No, no. You tend to get bent out of shape whenever things get…pardon the expression…hairy for her. Mind you, you get bent out of shape anytime one of us gets in trouble, which shows a lot about how seriously you take your job as flight lead. It just seems like it's worse with Terrany."

The raccoon could sense that a certain tension was rising up inside of Rourke, and let his statement linger without adding to it.

"I don't like breaking promises." Rourke finally said. The fur around his neck stayed bristled, and he seemed to dare Milo to push him farther.

The raccoon, for all his curiosity about what promise would make Rourke so protective of the last McCloud, understood when to back off. It was that wisdom which made the others comfortable enough to confide in him to begin with, and Milo had no doubt that Rourke would come clean on this as well, in his own time.

"So, Ulie Darkpaw's been poking around inside of my Arwing for the last day." Milo changed the subject, keeping up their pace.

"Oh yeah?" Rourke finally relaxed, and even moved a few steps ahead of his wingman. "You know why?"

"Well, back when I took out that last squadron by the power station, I apparently modified the Novas in a way they weren't expecting. Wyatt read me some of the riot act after they downloaded the flight data and reviewed the battle."

"Funny, I didn't think that would faze an old salt like you." Rourke stopped in front of the ship's elevator and punched in the call button.

"No, it didn't. Now they're trying to find a way to make the change a permanent feature."

"Huh." Rourke scratched the end of his nose. "I didn't know you could change how the Novas worked."

"When you're in Merge Mode, Rourke, anything's possible."

"Yeah. Even death."

The elevator doors opened, and Rourke stepped inside. He turned around and looked at Milo expectantly. "Getting on?"

The raccoon thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No. You go on ahead. I think I'll swing by the cafeteria, get some coffee."

"I'll join you in about 20 minutes."

"You have plans?" Milo asked.

"I've got business." Rourke answered, and the doors closed on him.

Milo turned away from the elevator and set a course through the _Wild Fox's _corridors for the cafeteria. Yes, the mantle of leadership was on Rourke O'Donnell's shoulders.

The descendant of the long dead Star Wolf didn't wear the command of Starfox very comfortably at all.

* * *

Jeeps had been around for nearly 200 years, and their design had changed very little. Even with a solid state hydrogen battery, the vehicle didn't do much to prevent the bumps in the road.

General Grey kept one hand firmly on top of his hat and head to keep the adornment from flying off into the wind and did his best to ignore the jarring impacts that rattled his teeth. He kept his attention off of the road and his somewhat crazy driver by staring at the hologram of General Kagan, who wore his fewer years of service far more gracefully than the old hound did. Kagan's black fur had only the occasional streak of silver, which did more to highlight his features than mar them. He remained very much an animal in control, even with Grey reading him the riot act.

"I understand your hesitance, General, but right now, disclosure will do more for the war effort than keeping secrets."

"I'm sorry, Winthrop, but something like this? It goes against everything I was trained for. I was put in charge of Ursa because we didn't want any leaks whatsoever."

"Unfortunately for us, the sight of four next generation Arwings flying over an embattled Corneria City leaked enough. Especially considering their mothership's parked at Cornelius, and they've already announced themselves as the Starfox team." Kagan shrugged his shoulders, lifting up his military overcoat. "I'll cover the general aspects, but they're going to want to know who Seraph Fli…Sorry, the _Starfox Team_ is. It was your program, and you're the most qualified person to talk about it without spilling your guts."

"And for this, you sent me a chartered jeep to come pick me up? We could have done this press conference over the holonet and saved ourselves a lot of trouble. They need me at the _Wild Fox_. We've got a lot of work left to do to get this ship ready for combat, and…"

"…and everyone else can take care of it." Kagan cut his protests off with a smooth voice. "You've got all the staff from Ursa Station relocated on site at Cornelius to help get that ship running, and I've transferred half of the engineering corps from Pepper AFB to help them out and get Cornelius rebuilt. Trust me, sir, they can manage fine without you for an hour. An hour, that's all I'm asking. You explain a few things, you answer a few questions, and Corneria at large starts to feel safe again."

Grey started to argue again, but a massive jolt almost made him bite his tongue off. Eyes welling up in pain, the General whirled on his driver. "Damnit, take it easy! This isn't the demolition derby!"

"Sorry, sir. Just trying to get to the CSC as fast as possible."

"Getting there alive would be better." Grey stared at the hologram of Kagan. "All right. But I'm only giving them a brief overview."

"That'll be fine." General Kagan assured him. "We've already determined that the Primals were able to breach our communications. Don't tell them anything that can be used against us in the battles to come."

"What?"

"You heard me right, Arnold." General Kagan reassured the old hound. "As soon as the Starfox team is ready, you have orders to take them and the _Wild Fox_ and lead the charge to take back the Lylat System."

General Grey cleared his throat nervously. "Seraph Flight may be under my command, Winthrop, but the _Wild Fox_ is_…"_

_

* * *

  
_

_The Wild Fox_

"…Wholly produced in house at Arspace Dynamics, and the sole property of Krystal McCloud and her heirs. That means that only I or Miss McCloud can decide what happens with this ship, or who is allowed on board." The elderly Slippy Toad narrowed his eyes and tapped the end of his cane down on the deck plating of the hangar bay, where the congregated military masses stood frozen. They were watching the showdown between the President of Arspace and a far younger officer from Cornelius AFB, Captain Sartorius. The burly orange-furred tomcat bristled as the decrepit old wart belittled him, waving one webbed finger at his nose. "And that means you're not putting _one single soldier_ on this ship."

"Sir, this ship has had military personnel swarming all over it since it was found." Captain Sartorius sighed.

"Yes! Crew personnel from Ursa Station, most of which were brought on board from _MY company's roster._ And they're only here to get the Seraph Arwings up and running again!" Slippy lifted his cane up from the deck and shook it violently. "Long story short, this isn't your ship, and I'll be damned if I see the McCloud's heritage be turned into just another toy for the military."

The orange tom snarled at him. "Oh, like the Arwings?"

"Why, you…"

Just as the fight seemed to be escalating to a rather pathetic display of fisticuffs, the large black bear named Ulie Darkpaw stepped in between them. "All right, that's enough, the both of you!"

The captain sized the newcomer up, clearly unimpressed with the ursine in grease and fluid-stained work coveralls. "And you would be?"

"Ulie Darkpaw, engineering department." The bear nodded to Slippy. "I work for your grandson, Mr. Toad."

"Aah, Ulie. Yes." Slippy smiled. "He's mentioned you. Says you're good people."

"So what makes you think you have the authority to give us orders?"

Ulie scratched at his stomach with a paw. "Well, for one, you're distracting our work crews. We're still trying to get the _Wild Fox_ up to speed, and there's a lot of projects around here, including making repairs on the Starfox Team's Arwings."

"Seraph Flight's." Captain Sartorius corrected him.

"And _two,_" Ulie went on, not giving a second thought to the matter, "Wyatt's been waiting to talk with his grandfather about a few things." The bear chuckled. "He figured since you built this ship and all, you'd be able to give him a hand."

"Gladly." Slippy set his cane back on the deck and bowed his head to Ulie. "Keep up the good work, son. And as for you, Captain…" He leveled a stare at the officer. "You can bring all the supplies on board that you want, but it's going to be Ursa Station personnel _only_ after that. Clear?"

"You do realize I'm going to have a chat with my superiors?"

"Oh, sure. Chat all you like." Slippy waved dismissively and started tottering off. "And in the meantime, get the Hell off my ship." The toad and bear walked off, and it was several seconds before Slippy looked over to Ulie with a mock lazy eye. "Has he stormed off yet?"

Ulie glanced behind them and smiled. "He just did." He put on a sterner face. "You might not want to antagonize him though, sir."

"Why? He'll court martial me and have me shot?" Slippy scoffed. "Not hardly. The worst he might be able to do is try and get me diagnosed as legally insane, and _that's_ not going to happen." He stared all around him, observing the hustle and bustle of the ship.

"Quite a sight, eh Mr. Toad?"

"Yeah, it is." Slippy said distantly. "One I didn't think I'd ever see again. My grandson told me that ROB is still active."

"And a bit of a smartass."

"Son, ROB's been active since before I tussled with Andross. You don't spend the better part of a century alive without picking up a few quirks here and there." Slippy quieted himself back down. "I also heard Krystal's buried in the garden center."

"Come to think of it, why did you build an arboretum aboard a warship?" Ulie asked. "It's been puzzling me."

Slippy smiled and gave his head the slightest nod. "It was a different time, Mr. Darkpaw. The Great Fox was more than a warship. Fox's dad had built it to be a home. A very well defended home, but a home nonetheless. I made the Mark Two to do the same thing."

"One last question…"

"Only one? You're full of them, it seems."

Ulie smiled weakly. "Sorry, sir. It's just…a lot of the things on this ship are surprising. The power source, for example? None of us had ever heard of an impulse vacuum drive before. And what's with the JT-300's? I thought those were outlawed."

"They were." Slippy blinked in surprise. "Those were 300's I saw outside?"

"So you didn't install them?"

"Afraid not, son." Slippy shook his head and kept on walking towards the back of the hangar. "I'm just wondering where Krystal could have gotten her hands on those. They were expensive pieces of hardware, back when they were still being made."

They turned a corner, and standing in a more secluded and quiet spot of the hangar was Wyatt Toad, stepping away from another Seraph Arwing. He'd been fiddling with the jet blue G-Negator unit, and it closed once he pulled his multitool away from it.

The younger toad examined his handiwork, then blinked, sensing a new presence. When he turned around and saw Slippy, his face brightened immediately. "Hey, Gramps! You made it!"

Ulie smiled to the older gentleman and bowed. "Your son might have a good guess. Take care, sir. I've got some more work to do…We're still having trouble regulating the parts generator for X-1 equipment."

The black bear headed off at a steady clip, and left the two Toads to share a long and well deserved hug.

"Good to see you, boy." Slippy smiled.

"Yeah, and you don't look half bad yourself. Been exercising?"

"Oh, not really." Slippy guffawed. He let go of Wyatt and took a wobbly step back, then stared up at the Arwing. "She's a real beaut, Wyatt. You would've made your great grandfather proud." Slippy blinked. "You know he was largely responsible for the SFX's original development?"

"Yes, grandpa. You've told me all about great-granddad Beltino." Wyatt rolled his eyes, which, for a frog, was a very disturbing and exaggerated gesture.

"Well, it's worth mentioning." Slippy groused. "Know your history, and all that. So! You called me up and said there was something I had to see. I was planning on visiting anyways, but what's on your mind? Having trouble with the vacuum drive? It's a tricky piece of equipment."

"No, that's not it, grandpa." Wyatt shook his head. "The vacuum drive's working perfectly; no errors. I called you down here because there's something…er…someone…you needed to say hi to."

Slippy glanced around expectantly, but no other person came forward. "Well? Where are they?"

Nervously, Wyatt rubbed his webbed hands together. "Well…you remember how we got started on the Merge project? That prototype A.I. that got mailed to us?"

"Yes, K.I.T." Slippy nodded. "What about it? Did you find who invented it?"

"Not exactly." Wyatt had a funny look on his face.

"So what's the deal then?" Slippy demanded.

Wyatt sighed. "You're not going to believe this."

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City_

General Winthrop Kagan was every bit the groomed lead officer. His uniform was decorated with countless medals and commendations from battles that stretched back years before. The lynx readjusted his collar in a mirror, making sure that it was perfectly symmetrical. "You ready for this, Arnold?" General Kagan glanced over to his right.

Brigadier General Arnold Grey, unlike his former protégé turned superior officer, wore the same rustic command jacket he always had, with the corncob pipe jammed in the corner of his mouth. The old dog had never put much stock into looks, Winthrop remembered, and it looked like he wasn't about to start now.

"Ready as I'll ever be." General Grey groused to the younger lynx.

"Good. Just follow me in. I'll cue you when it's your turn to go, sir."

"Winthrop, I told you…"

"Yes, I know, I know." General Kagan chuckled. "Sorry, Arnold. Old habits die hard, especially around mentors."

The two turned towards the door of the side room. Kagan opened it up and casually strolled out into the news conference room set up at the CSC. Flashbulbs and holorecorders lit up the small quarters, and a flood of noisy questions came after them.

Normally, this room would have only a few reporters, and a press officer would be doing the briefing.

The Primals had changed everything.

Kagan stepped behind the podium, which was stacked with microphones from every major news affiliate on Corneria. He cleared his throat, and started to speak. "Good morning."

The questions began to die out, and the reporters waited for the man to speak his peace. "My name is Major General Winthrop Kagan. I'm the head of Cornerian Space Command for the Cornerian Space Defense Forces. I'm sure all of you have a lot of questions, but we don't have a lot of time. As we speak, the Lylat System is under attack and Siege by a group of alien invaders who have freely declared that their only purpose in coming is to wipe us out of existence."

Kagan slightly raised his finger, and the room dimmed. A holographic projector lowered down from the ceiling and activated a display. It showed a specialized map readout of the Lylat System.

"Our first contact with the Primals was here; beyond the outer rim, close to three weeks ago. An experimental spacecraft was engaged and destroyed by what we later determined to be a scout ship. It disappeared without a trace, though we suspect it took measures to hide itself and watch us covertly."

The map zoomed in to show the waterlogged world of Aquas, where a host of blips listing the names of famous cruisers, battleships, and dreadnaughts were set. "Our long range sensors soon picked up a group of contacts approaching the Lylat System from a distant region of space. In secret, as to not alarm the general public and cause panic and chaos, the Cornerian SDF put together a task force here, above Aquas. It was commanded by Admiral Bradley Howlings, one of the SDF's most decorated line officers. We fielded 35 percent of our total assets in the battle group under the 7th Fleet." Kagan paused for a moment, and the display showed a wave of enemy ships closing in. The first wave was wiped out, along with most of the Lylatian ships.

A second, larger, surprise wave finished the job.

"The 7th Fleet was wiped out in the Primals' main assault wave. There are no accounted survivors."

Shocked murmurs, expected by Kagan, rumbled for a bit. "Their ferocious attack then spread out after the battle over Aquas. At this time, we cannot confirm how bad the situation is elsewhere in the Lylat System. The Primals have been able to limit our ability to communicate with the other worlds in the system, and open frequencies are out of the question. Our enemies have already demonstrated the ability to monitor and benefit from our comm relays."

He blinked once, pausing just long enough to catch his breath, and pushed on before a reporter could shout out a question. "Corneria almost fell as well, but as you know by now, we had some last minute help come in." General Kagan glanced over to General Grey. "And to elaborate on that, I'm going to turn the stage over to General Arnold Grey, the man in charge of Project Seraphim."

Kagan stepped back, and General Grey took the podium. The old hound chewed on the end of his corncob pipe for a few more moments, staring out over the throng of reporters.

Sensing an opportunity in the silence, one swine reporter raised his hand. "General, is it true that…"

"Would you all _kindly_ keep your gobs quiet until I get through my material?" General Grey growled warningly. A ripple of shock passed through the crowd, and the old hound took his pipe out of his mouth. "It's bad enough I have to waste time we don't have standing around yapping it up. The least you can do is cork it, understood?"

He saw a few people swallow under the force of his low, threatening tones. The pig, paler than before, even nodded.

General Grey wasn't one for public speaking; he'd been a career combat veteran known for an abrasive command style, and grit that went along with getting the job done. More than once he'd heard some passing remark about how his father was a better leader, but he'd swallowed the words all the time and pressed on. It hadn't made it any easier to deal with people, though.

So in the end, General Arnold Grey treated the room as being full of non-entities, as if he was speaking solely for the cameras…which in a sense, he was.

"As it's been revealed, the Cornerian Air Force has been collaborating on the next generation of Arwing with Arspace Dynamics. This project carried the codename Seraphim, and was classified top secret until recent events forced us to go public."

Unlike with General Kagan's presentation, General Grey had brought no slideshow. It suited him better, only having to worry about his own words, and not images.

"This new generation Arwing was classified as the X-1 Seraph. I won't go into too many details, as I'm positive that this transmission will be picked up by our new adversaries…But for the moment, what I can tell you is that the Seraph Arwings carry enhanced weapons payloads and an on-board Artificial Intelligence to assist the pilot in maintaining the fighter. Project Seraphim was located aboard Ursa Station, a facility located in the Sector X nebula of Lylat. As Ursa Station was listed as decommissioned, it allowed us to conduct testing out of view and in relative safety. That much was true, up until the Primal Invasion."

The General felt a lump rising up in his throat, and he swallowed. It did him little good, so he pressed on regardless. "It was one of the project's test flights that provided our first encounter with the Primals. One of their scout ships engaged, and succeeded in disabling and eliminating a Seraph that we had been running tests with in the outer edge of the system. Shortly before Admiral Howlings and the 7th Fleet engaged the Primals' main force, the invaders also sent an attack carrier against Ursa Station. Thanks to the brave efforts of Seraph Flight, there were no casualties…but Ursa Station was destroyed." General Grey finally let his eyes focus in away from a spot on the back wall, and scanned the crowd. "They made their way to another facility for repairs, and then, as you all know, arrived here on Corneria to blunt the enemy attack."

The old hound mulled his options over for a moment, then sighed when he realized he could postpone it no longer. The look his former student was giving him didn't help much either. "Though I don't need to say this…are there any questions? And try to do it in an orderly fashion."

A long-necked ostrich raised a wing up. "Why did they call themselves Starfox?" She asked. "There hasn't been a Starfox team in decades, not since Max McCloud opted to join the Air Force."

"I suspect that they believed the time was right." General Grey said. "Or it might have been they wanted the right name to go with their new mothership."

"About the mothership, General." A pink-nosed feline went on. "Why did they call it _Wild Fox_ and not the Great Fox, like the first Starfox team's mothership was named?"

"I had that very same question. From what the team's told me, it has something to do with a nickname that Terrany McCloud had when she was younger. The others believed the title was fitting."

"Is this the same Terrany McCloud who caused that accident at the air show on Katina a few weeks ago?" Another reporter shot out. "I thought they had kicked her out of the Academy and stripped her flying priveleges. What's she doing as the leader of a squadron of brand new Arwings?"

"To clarify, Terrany McCloud is _not _the leader of Sera…the Starfox team." General Grey almost winced when he corrected himself. "Her military status was revoked, but is pending again."

"So this Starfox team is another mercenary unit, then?"

General Kagan coughed loudly, and General Grey had to calm himself down to keep from blasting the man with a malediction. It was as much his own fault; he'd dug the hole on his own there. "No comment."

"So, who is all on the team, besides the civilian pilot Terrany McCloud?"

"The former pilots of Seraph Flight come from very diverse backgrounds." Grey chewed the end of his corncob pipe again, and marveled at how well it put up with his teething. "Terrany McCloud was our newest recruit for the four man squadron. Besides her, we have Dana Tiger, who came from Arspace Dynamics as a civilian test pilot. Dana's been flying in the Seraphs since Project Seraphim got started."

"To complement the squadron, and provide a semblance of military order, we also invited Sergeant Milo Granger of the Cornerian Army to suit up as well."

"Army?" A reporter asked dubiously. "What's a ground pounder doing in a spacecraft?"

"Sergeant Granger has proven himself time and time again as a level-headed individual, able to understand a situation at a glance and change accordingly. His tactical expertise helped to round out the team, and he proved to have the right state of mind to pilot a Seraph effectively." Grey pulled his pipe out and hesitated as he spoke again. "Then there's the fourth member of the squadron…Former second in command, Lieutenant Rourke O'Donnell."

The room exploded with disbelief.

"O'Donnell?!" One reporter shouted over the noise. "What the Hell is a Star Wolf doing on the Starfox team?"

General Grey shoved his pipe back into his mouth and gave his head a vigorous shake. "Flying. Rourke may not be the most agreeable person I've ever met, but he gets the job done. Considering the odds we're up against, the Starfox team needs all the help it can get. All of Lylat does."

"General, you mentioned Terrany was the last member assigned to Project Seraphim. Given her shaky past, that leads me to suspect she was brought aboard at the last minute as a replacement." One reporter dug in with a pointed question, and pointed his pencil at the man. "So…who did she replace?"

Silence hung over the room in reply.

The old hound gave the room one last sweep of his steely eyes and nodded. "Now, then. We've got a lot of work to do, so I'm going to leave it at that." He stepped away from the podium and made for the door, with reporters standing up and shouting after him, and a very surprised looking General Kagan following after him.

"That's it?" The lynx asked incredulously, once they were moving down the private hallway of the CSC and away from the conference room. "Arnold, they wanted more than that."

"I said I wouldn't divulge any more than I absolutely had to."

"Well, yeah, about the Seraphs I can understand…but you didn't even answer that last question."

"And what was I supposed to tell them, exactly?" General Grey barked, picking up his pace. "That we lost Carl McCloud to a Primal scout cruiser two weeks before we ever considered picking up Terrany?" He took off his hat and ran a hand over his ears. "Face it, Winthrop. Right now, Lylat's in it deep, and Corneria needs every bit of morale we can offer. They don't need to hear that the grandson of Fox McCloud is dead."

"Missing in action."

"Dead." Grey muttered warningly to his former apprentice. "So what's the latest on our situation, anyhow?"

"The Primals haven't sent anything else to Corneria to attack us, but chances are good that reprieve won't last forever." Kagan admitted, slipping into a more businesslike mode. "We still can't figure out what else is happening in the Lylat System."

"Because the Primals destroyed our satellite network."

"Not exactly." Kagan voiced. It was enough to make Grey glance over his shoulder. Kagan's uncomfortable expression made him stop walking.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Dining Lounge_

Milo stared out of the long stretch of ionized shielding that masked the glassless windows inside the mothership and took another sip of coffee. The shields left no buzz in the air, or even a trace of static electricity to make his fur stand on end. In the void of space, the window shields would encapsulate the ship's interior environment, preserving air pressure, temperature, and humidity without a single flaw. On a planet's surface, all they did, outside of tinting the view of Cornelius AFB slightly blue, was keep the ship air-conditioned.

One thing they didn't do, in comparison to real windows however, was allow for people's reflections to show up.

"Drinking alone this morning?" Dana Tiger asked. Milo's ears flicked for a moment, then he turned and glanced up. The two ladies of the Starfox team had mugs of their own, and Milo noticed Terrany had changed back into her usual ensemble of a flight jacket, uniform trousers, and a nondescript blue-white T-shirt.

"Oh, not for long." He told them, motioning with his free hand to the other seats at the table. "So how does it feel to be up and around again, Terrany?"

"Good." The albino vixen replied easily. "Dr. Bushtail's a real grumpy simian. Once you get to know him, you realize that he's not faking it to make people ignore him." Terrany sat down beside Dana and smirked. "But he's good at his job. My chest feels fine."

"Mmm-hm." Milo took another sip of his coffee. "Well, while you've been getting rest and recuperation, things've been moving like crazy around here."

"Oh? Besides the fact that most of Ursa Station's now crowded aboard your ship?"

"My ship?" Terrany blinked.

Milo smiled genially and pointed towards a nearby flatscreen television on a Cornerian news channel. "So you haven't heard, then?"

Terrany turned and scanned the screen. Everything was related to the Primal invasion and Starfox. "It looks like they had a press conference."

"Well, yeah. Nothing major there, the General did a brief recap." Milo shrugged. "But Arspace made an announcement earlier; I guess it got lost in the headline shuffle. The _Wild Fox_ is yours by inheritance."

Terrany was doubtful. "This whole ship."

"Yeah."

"Mine."

"That's right."

"And I'm supposed to believe this why?"

"Because it's the truth." Milo explained gently. "This is your ship. We're all just here for the ride."

Terrany sat there thinking about her new situation for a few moments, then picked up her coffee mug and took a drink.

"No shout of joy? Nothing?" Milo pressed.

Terrany shook her head. "My grandmother's buried on this ship. That made this ship belong to me long before this legal news. And it doesn't change anything." She drummed her fingers on the table. "This is still the ship that we're going to use to take the fight to the Primals. Beyond that, it's all just legalese."

Dana smiled and rested her chin on a hand, staring at the younger woman. The glance made Terrany nervous enough to stammer out a hasty, "What?"

"Nothing too important." Dana replied. "It's just for a moment…you sounded like a different person just then."

"Older. More mature." Milo agreed. "Maybe some of Falco's more agreeable traits rubbed off on you."

"Doubtful." Terrany smiled, finishing off her coffee. She slammed the mug down on the table and looked up. "He doesn't have any agreeable traits."

"The old holo newsreels do depict him as being the saucy one. I guess old age didn't get rid of it." Dana laughed.

Terrany looked around the dining lounge with a curious look on her face. It didn't take Milo and Dana long to notice it. "Something wrong, Terrany?" Dana asked.

"Well, I was just wondering where Rourke was." The last McCloud explained.

"He said he had some business to take care of." Milo said. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh?"

* * *

Slippy Toad just stood there for several moments after his grandson told him the truth about KIT. Neither he, nor the spirit locked within the Seraph Arwing said anything. After a time, Slippy had to crack a smile and laugh; that had usually been the pattern between them. Silence had always been preferable to arguments.

_"You got old, Slip, but I see you're still as much of a pain in the neck as ever."_

"It's good to see you too, Falco. It looks like you gained some weight, though." Slippy brought a hand up to his bulbous eyes and wiped at them. He'd started crying. "Damnit. Why, Falco?"

_"Well, it was either this, or I let the cancer finish me off. And I wasn't exactly keen on that idea." _The etheric voice of Falco in digital form fell silent before adding, _"And I had a promise to keep. Doing this was the only way I could keep it."_

"Who in blazes would you make a promise to that would force you into this state of…of unnaturalness?"

_"Krystal." _KIT snapped. _"Remember her? Fox's wife? Mother of his son? I wouldn't do this for anyone elses' sake, you know. She told me to keep an eye on her kids after she took the Mark 2 Great Fox and disappeared. She went one direction, and I went the other."_

"But don't you regret the choice?" Slippy demanded, and age made his voice crack with a wheeze. "You always were cocky, but this isn't a life! It's a mockery of it! You can't eat, you can't dance, you can't hug anyone…"

_"Slip?" _KIT said calmly.

"Yeah?"

_"Shut up for two seconds, would you?" _The AI snapped. _"You don't think I don't know all of that? I spent most of these years without being awake; just a pattern of code put on a hard drive in Katina. The painful part was when they loaded me onto this prototype Seraph here. When Max's son couldn't hack Merge Mode, your grandson locked me in cold storage."_

Behind Slippy, Wyatt's green skin turned a few shades paler, and her looked down at the decking. "Yeah. Sorry for that, sir."

_"You didn't know any better, so relax. I don't fault people for mistakes of ignorance."_

Slippy leaned on his cane and sniffled. "All the arguing aside, Falco…Even if it is just this small part of your spirit, I'm glad to see that someone else from the team is still alive."

The AI hesitated, then harrumphed. _"Yeah. But I always did figure we'd be the two who made it. I'm too much of a survivor, and you? You were smart enough to get out when you did, before things took a turn for the worse."_

"But if I hadn't…If I'd been there with you and Fox, maybe…"

_"Stop it." _Falco chastised his old friend and wingman. _"You can't do that to yourself. Don't go blaming yourself over what happened. Ever. Fox died flying. There was nothing any of us could have done to change that."_

"But I should have been there!" Slippy argued, and this time, the tears did come hard and fast. A troubled Wyatt came around and grabbed his grandfather's shoulders as the old amphibian started to sink to the floor. "He was my friend, and he died out there!"

_"And he would have died anyway. Even if the rest of us had all vanished, he would have still flown into that mess. He'd still be dead. I'm sorry, Slip. You've gotta let it go."_

Crying silently, clinging to his grandson, Slippy Toad did what he'd never done in all those long years.

He grieved.

* * *

_The Bridge_

The hydraulic doors hissed apart, and Rourke O'Donnell stepped out onto the command and control center of the impressive and now battle tested _Wild Fox._ The ship was now fully manned by the familiar faces of what had once been the bridge crew of Ursa Station. Over by the holographic display table, General Grey glanced up and nodded to him. "Lieutenant."

"General." The wolf replied, foregoing the usually expected salute. The old hound rolled his eyes as the leader of the reformed Starfox team sauntered over to him. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"I did, as a matter of fact." The General turned back to the display table and brought up a map of the Lylat System. Glowing dots all around their vast binary star system went from green to red, and the General waved a hand at them. "You know what these dots represent, right?"

"Offhand?" Rourke considered them for a moment. "I'd say they're probably the network of communication and observation satellites used by the SDF. Am I right?"

"Spot on." Arnold Grey harrumphed. "They're red in this display because we've lost all communication with them."

"They were all destroyed?"

"No." General Grey shook his head. "I wish it was that simple. The ones that were destroyed don't show up on this map. No, it seems our friends the Primals cooked up a new scheme that caught us completely off guard. They knew right where to hit us. We're blind as bats right now, and…"

"Hey!" A soft-nosed chiropteran standing over by the power readouts consoles glanced over sharply and lifted her ears up.

The General winced. "Sorry, Sasha. Old habits." The technician rolled her eyes and got back to work, and the General took a moment to clear his throat. "Anyhow, we can't see a damned thing going on in the system right now. They've hijacked our own network and locked us out."

"No wonder they've been so damn coordinated." Rourke growled. "To do that, though, they'd have to be broadcasting a pretty powerful signal to override the Cornerian master frequency. Stronger than anything the Space Pirates ever had."

"Oh, they've got a good reach. With SDF Command safe for the time being, my old protégé General Kagan was able to bounce a signal through the network and get a bead on the Primals' transmission site." The General reached up into the hovering, rotating map of Lylat and double tapped the photonic image of one of the planets.

Rourke stared wide at it as the image expanded. "You're kidding me."

General Grey shook his head. "Kind of makes you wish you'd turned down Captain McCloud's offer, doesn't it?"

Rourke stared at the map without responding, and General Grey turned back for the ship's command chair. "Have your team up and in my briefing room in twenty minutes, Lieutenant. We've got work to do."

* * *

_Flight Deck/Hangar Bay_

While Wyatt Toad finished escorting his grandfather back off of the _Wild Fox_, the black furred ursine Ulie Darkpaw was busy finishing up some last minute modifications on Sergeant Granger's Arwing. As usual, a cluster of the finest greasers to turn a wrench were all around the ship as well, each working side by side on an individual task. Tools and words flowed between them easily, and the synchronicity of their work was almost surreal.

It was something about this massive cruiser which inspired them.

"Hey boss, circuit reader says we've fixed all the blowouts on the Negator power relays!"

"That's good." Ulie grunted, continuing to tinker away with the nose cannon. "Garfield, you finish putting in those Merge modifications with ODAI?"

Up in the cockpit, the technician called Garfield glanced over the side of the canopy. "Almost, boss. ODAI made the work a load easier. These AIs can damn near reprogram the entire Arwing from scratch, if they have to!"

_"That statement is invalid. Reprogramming the entire Seraph Arwing would be inefficient." _The ODAI aboard Milo's Arwing stated calmly. Like its pilot, the AI was always in control. _"The modification in question should prove very useful with Pilot Granger's combat style. Reprogramming the G-Negator pods to channel power into the fuselage laser assembly does carry certain risks. I am not detecting installation of a suitable capacitor in the nose cannon."_

"Easy, sport." Ulie grumbled, and continued fiddling under the Arwing's belly. "That's because I haven't put it in yet."

_"Please do so."_

"Give me a flaming second, you damn machine!"

Unseen by the busy workforce, Sergeant Milo Granger walked up to them and cleared his throat. "Insulting my AI again, are you Ulie?"

"Geh!" Ulie whirled his head around and blinked at the bemused raccoon. "By the Creator. You gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!"

"Sorry, old habits." Milo shrugged. "Staying quiet's just what I do." He glanced around the maintenance team, which gave him only a momentary glance before returning back to work. "So what are you doing to my ship, exactly?"

"Well, we figured since you were so keyed up into firing those single supercharged bolts instead of relying on the Nova Lasers as we designed 'em, you might appreciate a slight refit." Ulie explained. He snapped a resistor circuit into place and reached for another component. "You did a Hell of a number on the wiring in this Seraph with that stunt; damn near blew every relay. Now the next time you decide to go "Sniper" on us with this ship, it should be able to handle the strain. Just remember the usual Nova Laser protocols…"

"Fire too quick, burnout comes slick." Milo repeated the joking sentiment, watching Ulie work. "I know, I know. I'll be careful. Thanks for the refit, by the way."

"Hey, that's what we're here for." Ulie shrugged off the compliment. "Me and the boys get these things back in the air, and you bring them back. Just try not to bang them up as much, huh?"

"Well, these are prototypes, you know." Milo drawled. "We're still learning about all the kinks in them."

"Tell me about it." Ulie rolled his eyes and plugged in one more component, then he shut the nose cannon access panel. "All right, ODAI. Go ahead and power up the lasers and give me a diagnostic."

_"Accessing…Accessing." _ODAI paused. _"All systems nominal. Report green status. New buffer circuit detected; synchronizing. Synchup successful. Modified Merge Mode laser "Pulse" system installed. Mechanic Darkpaw, this Seraph's weapons systems are combat ready. Please finish the deflector shield re-tuning."_

"What, that's not done yet?" Ulie leaned back and looked to the rear of the Arwing. "Jenkins! Why aren't those shield emitters tuned up yet?"

A puffy-eyed squirrel poked its head up and looked back. "I'm sorry, sir, it's taking me longer than I thought!"

"Don't tell me sorry, just get it done!"

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it! GOD!"

Milo chuckled as the squirrel got back to work, muttering curses under his breath. His pleasant reverie was interrupted by the P.A. system.

_**"Sergeant Granger, please contact Lieutenant O'Donnell. Sergeant Granger, please…"**_

"Oh goody." Milo dug into his pocket and brought up a wireless earpiece and microphone. He set it on his head and toggled the talk switch. "Milo here. What's wrong, Rourke?"

_"The General's called us in for a little meeting. I've already got the girls. Meet us up in the Bridges' Ready Room, and put your game face on."_

"A mission?" Milo asked, already feeling he knew the answer.

_"Yeah. It's not a fun one."_

"See you there in five." Milo clicked his headset off and nodded to Ulie. "It looks like we might be testing out those modifications of yours sooner than we thought, Mr. Darkpaw."

"Oh, lord love a duck." Ulie grumbled, glad there wasn't a duck around to hear him say it. "All right, all right. You get going. I'd better kick the team into high gear here."

Milo turned around and waved over his shoulder as he vanished. The well-mannered, but burly black bear whistled sharply through his teeth and got his crew's attention. "All right, you heard the man! Let's finish this ship off and get the others checked out! We've gotta MOVE IT!"

* * *

_Bridge Ready Room_

By the time Milo arrived, everyone else including General Grey were already sitting down and waiting.

"Sorry I'm late." The raccoon apologized. "Ulie was showing me some of the work he'd been doing on the Arwings."

"Technically, you're not late." The General replied, glancing at his watch. "But, now that all of you are here, there are a couple of things that General Kagan told me to pass along to all of you."

The next statement seemed as though it pained him to say. "_Technically_, this ship belongs to you, Miss McCloud. In a sense, myself and all the rest of the Ursa Station crew now inhabiting this attack cruiser are trespassing. From what I've heard, though, the scuttlebutt is you're not that particular about it. Correct?"

"I just want to take these Primals down and kick them out of the Lylat System." Terrany told the old hound flatly. "And it's going to take all of us to do it."

"Good." He actually smiled at that. "Next point. You never graduated from the Flight Academy on Katina, so like Dana Tiger, you're a contracted _civilian_ employee."

"What's the difference?" Terrany asked.

"The difference, honey, is that the pay's better." Dana laughed.

General Grey cleared his throat. "To that end, there's a lot of public pressure for the Starfox team to take point in the war against the Primals. And since the SDF doesn't own this ship, nor yourself as a military fighter pilot…"

"Spit it out already." Rourke breathed. "Is it that painful to say?"

"The Cornerian Space Defense Forces are hiring the Starfox Team." The General snapped. "And yes, Lieutenant. I liked it better when we had Ursa Station and you were all squarely under my control." The General stood up and headed to the back of the Ready Room. There, sunk into the wall, was an old fashioned, but pristine flatscreen display panel. "But times change. As of right now, they've taken a turn for the worse. We blunted the attack on Corneria, but we know the Primals hit other key strategic targets as well in their Invasion. When we lost our system-wide Satellite network, we thought that they'd destroyed it to nullify what little advantage we had. Unfortunately, that isn't the case."

He pulled a remote out of his pocket, and the lights in the room dimmed. The screen turned on, and showed a flat image of what Rourke had seen barely half an hour earlier.

"These flashing red dots represent our Satellite Network. It's not destroyed, team; it's been hijacked." The old dog scowled. "They're using our own network against us, and they did it by overriding our control systems here on Corneria by establishing a command post on the other end of the system."

The map zoomed in on Venom.

"You're kidding." Dana uttered. She glanced around the table for incredulity from the others. "He's got to be kidding. Venom?"

"It's ideally placed." Milo observed, with no laughter in his eyes. "Venom's orbit is only a little farther out from the midpoint of Lylus and Solar than Corneria, and it stays on the opposite side of Solar on every revolution. A station there would have enough reach to affect all the critical central nodes of the network. From those, they'd have no trouble commandeering the outer probes."

"Exactly so." General Grey zoomed in the view again, to show a closeup of Venom's terrain. "It was for that reason that the SDF built a secondary Command Center on the planet's surface. With Andross dead and gone and the Space Pirates dealt with, a grateful Venom became one of our closest allies. It made sense to put it there. We just never expected an alien force would have the knowhow and intel to take it over."

The General glanced back to the team. "This mission is time critical. If we're to have any hope of re-establishing contact with our stranded forces before the Primals wipe them out, we have to destroy Venom's Command Center and cut off the Primal broadcast as soon as possible. I understand from Dr. Bushtail, Miss McCloud, that you'll be sitting this mission out due to your recovery period."

"If you think that I'm just going to sit here in this station while the rest of the team flies off into the heart of enemy territory…" Terrany began warningly.

"You may not be in an Arwing, but you're coming on this mission as well." The General cut her off firmly. He looked to Rourke. "We all are. The _Wild Fox_ was designed as a first strike ship of the line to support a flight of Arwings. While you, Sergeant Granger, and Pilot Tiger are flying the unfriendly skies, myself and everyone else from Ursa is going to be aboard the _Wild Fox_ offering you all the support we can muster. We just finished transferring on the last of our supplies and munitions today."

"Well, that's reassuring." Rourke agreed. The wolf examined his claws for a moment. "Of course, we're still flying into this mess blind. We don't have any idea the kind of defenses they'll have put up around that Command Center, or what Fleet assets they've committed. For all we know, we'll be flying into a trap."

"There's that possibility, yes." General Grey agreed. "But we'll be keeping the Warp Gate capacitors fully charged and flying in on FTL. If things get hairy, we'll simply turn around and hop out of there before they can react to us. It's a risky plan, O'Donnell, but it's all we have right now."

Rourke O'Donnell swiveled his head around the table and took a moment to reflect on the expressions of every one of his teammates.

He saw nothing but resolve.

"Well, all right then." Rourke agreed. "It looks like we're going to Venom."


	13. Spring Cleaning

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: SPRING CLEANING

**Gateway Portals**- Developed in the years following the Lylat Wars, "Warp Gate" technology arose as a possible replacement for the standard FTL drives. Whereas FTL draws a spaceship into an underlying dimension of energy for travel at lightspeed and above, Warp Gateways functioned by forming a bridge between two points in space; essentially pulling two distant pieces of spacetime together so one could cross from one end to the other instantaneously. Warp Gates proved vital in the Aparoid War, allowing the Cornerian Fleet to sail to the Aparoid Homeworld for the final attack. Its high power drain proved to be too unwieldy for constant use; as a result, only a few Warp Gate "Waypoints" exist in the Lylat System. They are simply too costly for installation aboard ships. It is likely that the technology will never fully replace the need for a sturdy FTL drive.

**(From the Notes of Beltino Toad, Former President, Arspace Dynamics)**

_**Strange to think of how many technologies people take for granted started in the brilliant and twisted mind of Andross. I didn't believe my son's initial reports of a scattered but functional Warp Gate in Sector X. After all, they couldn't confirm that it was active, what with Slippy being knocked into Titania and all...But sure enough, when the dust settled and I was able to get a team out to those ruins in the void, there it was. I'd be remiss if I didn't gloat a little bit from our own efforts at Arspace to perfect the technology. Imagine, Andross needing four successive doorways to manage the leap! Heh!**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_Cornelius Air Force Base_

_Detainment Center (Temporary)_

Had the public known that the ground forces had captured a Primal soldier alive, they would have torn down the base to get at him and finish what the military had started. It wouldn't have been that hard, considering a large screen television had been dropped on top of him.

Now he lay in a hospital bed, attached to life support and monitoring equipment. Stripped out of what was left of his combat armor, the Primal trooper seemed eerily similar to the citizens of Lylat. Light brown fur coated his body, and though his face was hairless, save for the scalp and a rough patch on and around his chin, it was too close to the apelike species so prominent on Venom and other 'far' planets.

The airbase doctor assigned to his care spoke with the intelligence agent sent over from the wartorn Corneria City. "The interior physiology is vastly different, but he shares several features with the simian species of Lylat. The genetics…there's an 80 percent match with Lylatian intelligent life."

"Meaning?" The gray feline intelligence operative said curtly.

The doctor, a green-billed waterfowl, pressed his feathered fingers together nervously. "Meaning that we share a common ancestry."

The manx tomcat narrowed his sharp green eyes at the prisoner of war. "Well…that gives us something to talk about then."

The doctor grabbed him by the shoulder. "You can't! He isn't stable yet. He suffered numerous fractures including most of his ribcage, half a dozen lacerations, what I think is a punctured lung, and he's been slipping in and out of consciousness. I haven't been able to do a damn thing about his blood loss, and he had a severely negative reaction to standard painkillers."

"Doc, that son of a bitch is part of an invasion which has made no secret they want to wipe us out of existence." The agent hissed, and jerked free of the duck. "I don't care what shape he's in. He and I are going to have a talk."

The tom made his way to the Primal's bedside and roughly shook the railing. The loud vibrations made the fellow's eyes flutter open, and he glanced up to his captor.

The intelligence operative didn't mince words. He reached down to the respirating air tube shoved down the prisoner's throat and pulled it out in one quick motion. "Why did you come here?"

The weakened Primal gagged and wheezed as the plastic ventilating tube was ripped out of him. The biometric sensors recording his vitals went wild under the strain, but the operative did not hold back. He forced the soldier's eyes open and stared hard. "Why are you trying to kill us?!"

Pain and discomfort were replaced by a wheezing laugh. The Primal turned his watery eyes away from the tomcat. _"Sha muuur…" _He was cut off when the operative's claws dug into his shoulder.

"We know you can speak our language. So talk, unless you'd like me to claw something of yours that's more delicate."

Weary malice in his face, the Primal turned his head back and gazed at the tomcat. "I'm going to die. Nothing you do to me will change that. But you will all die as well."

"Why?!" The agent snapped, looming over the frail soldier.

The Primal offered no false sentiments of bravery, no last oaths. He smiled.

His eyes fluttered shut, and one last breath passed by his lips. Without his respirator to aid him, the Primal's heart gave out, and one long beeping flatline was all that was left in the room.

"Damnit." The tom tossed the now useless breathing tube onto the corpses' chest and spun around. The doctor was livid.

"You just killed my patient, you sorry son of a…"

The intelligence operative brought his paw around fast, and had the doctor pinned to the wall before the fowl could quack out in surprise. The tom's eyes flashed angrily. "And he did worse not so long ago. Remember that before you start screaming murder, doctor."

He dropped the duck back down and stormed out of the detainment center. The doctor spat on the floor and glanced back to his now deceased charge.

All he could do now to glean information about the Primals was an autopsy, thanks to that operative.

He hated those.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_In Orbit Above Corneria_

General Grey drummed his fingers onto the armrest of the Bridge command chair. "What kind of a transmission, Sasha?"

The soft-nosed bat stationed over at the communications console of the _Wild Fox_ let her ears droop. "It's an override, General."

"From the Primals, sir." The communications officer, a black lynx called Woze added grimly. "It's coming in on all channels. They wanted us to pick it up."

Sasha finished running a copy of the transmission through the scanner. "It's clean, General. No viruses or hackware."

"Just a message then." General Grey rubbed at his chin. He glanced quickly over to the boar over at the radar station. "Any contacts, Hogsmeade?"

"Just SDF ones, sir." The swine said. He tipped his cap up for a better look at his commanding general. "And there aren't that many of those."

"Very well." General Grey exhaled. "Put it up on the monitor, Sasha. We might as well hear what they have to say." The bat pursed her lips, but held her remarks to herself and followed orders.

The viewscreen was suddenly filled with the face of a menacing looking Primal…

One with no hair at all, save for a ragged black mop on the top of his head. Where fur should have been, there was only pale white skin. Everyone on the bridge recoiled at the sight, for while the amphibian and reptilian hosts of Lylat went with skin or scale, this was something wholly different.

The Primal creature stared towards whatever camera he was broadcasting from, his features locked in perpetual scowl.

_**"Pitiful creatures of this star system. For too long have you been allowed to grow and evolve. You believe that this home in the Universe is yours. You are wrong. It is ours, and we have come to reclaim that which the Lord of Flames has declared such. And you fight, do you? Meaningless efforts. You have no secrets from us. Long ago, we studied your radio transmissions. Not even your precious military networks escaped our notice. We know of your Arwings. We know of your Starfox team. Nothing will save you."**_

General Grey's claws dug into his armrests. "Those lousy…"

_**"Still, the Lord of Flames is willing to forget your transgressions. This genocide need not be complete, so He has said. All those who are able, climb into your precious spaceships and fly far, far away from this system. Only by doing this will any of you survive. Stay, fight, and you will be exterminated…with great pleasure."**_

The transmission ended as quickly as it had begun.

General Grey's XO from Ursa, an orange tabby aptly named Thomas "Tom" Dander, folded his arms. "They have an awfully high opinion of themselves. And who's this Lord of Flames? The comm chatter when we saved Corneria City had the attack cruiser also mentioning that title."

"Some backwards driven deity, I imagine." General Grey answered. He tapped the intercom switch in his chair and accessed a direct channel. "Wyatt, we about ready to get this show on the road?"

_"Just about, sir. The Arwings are set and prepped, ROB helped me get the parts synthesizer up to specs, and the team's ready to launch. There was just one thing I wanted to get ready first."_

"Wyatt, we're burning time we don't have here." The old hound growled.

_"Trust me, sir, this is one project you'll want me to finish. These Primals have been damn good about being able to follow our plans almost as soon as we make them."_

"Yeah, because our radio communications are compromised."

_"Unless you used Omega Black quantum frequencies, yeah. But one thing me and the boys picked up on during our counterattack was that they didn't know what was going on once the Arwings switched to IR communications…a low powered, high resolution data laser beam. We think we've figured a way to make that system more reliable, and get the Wild Fox to transmit on it as well while they're on maneuvers."_

General Grey drew a hand over his eyes. "Toad, is this something I need to know in detail? Can you just wave your magic screwdriver and make it happen in the next ten minutes so we can get down to the business of beating the tar out of the Primal invaders?"

_ "Well…I suppose so, sir, but…"_

"Then do it. We'll have a few hours to kill during the FTL jump, anyhow." Grey shut off the intercom and looked up to his XO. "Get the Starfox team on the horn, Commander. We've got a transmission post to destroy."

The orange tabby smiled. "Aye-aye, general."

* * *

_Wild Fox Flight Deck_

_"Starfox team, you are cleared to launch. Hold formation around the mothership for synchronized FTL jump."_

Inside his Seraph's cockpit, Rourke O'Donnell toggled his mike with a double click in response. That signal was followed by a pair from Milo and Dana as well.

The flight deck sat below the _Wild Fox's_ hangar bay, and was comparatively smaller. Like the great mothership's predecessor, spacecraft were meant to launch out the front underneath the powerful laser cannons and arrive through an entryway at the upper rear fantail.

Hydraulic lifts with magnetic locks brought the three Arspace prototypes down from the hangar bay above and into the smaller, pressurized flight deck.

"All ships, give me a systems check." Rourke called out. He was already toggling the various switches inside his own machine.

"My Seraph is primed and loaded. Dual phase smart bombs are prepped."Dana Tiger cut in.

"I've got to give credit to Wyatt and his team." Milo added cheerfully. "They did a Hell of a job retrofitting this thing for the stunts I like to pull. How's your Arwing, Rourke?"

"Purring like a kitten." Rourke said.

_"As if you'd know what a kitten sounds like." _His ODAI snipped sarcastically. Rourke ignored the remark and flipped the next and very vital switches; setting the fusion reactor from hibernation mode to full power, and starting the engines.

"Start your engines, then."

Terrany's voice cut in over the channel. _"Hey, before you guys launch, I just wanted to let you know…I really wish the doc had cleared me for active duty."_

Dana laughed. "Don't worry, Terrany. There's gonna be plenty of chances to blast these Primals to pieces. You sit this one out and get that arm solid."

_"Hey, guys?" _Wyatt croaked in as well. Given how his voice only partially picked up, it was likely he was standing by Terrany. _"I've got a software patch for your communications systems I need to give you before you take off."_

"Wait a minute. A patch?" Milo sounded intrigued. "You've found a way to block the Primals from picking up our battlefield transmissions?"

_"If you mean, have I scrambled the radio chatter? No. But when you switched over to IR during your drop on Corneria City, they were blind to it. The update I'm sending you will upgrade your optical communications…and hopefully let me and my boys coordinate with you from orbit."_

Inside his cockpit, Rourke raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to know how you were planning on doing that, especially considering that you won't always have line of sight with us."

_"You just let me worry about the how, O'Donnell." _Wyatt croaked. _"Now take the damn file. I'm sending it now through the ship's short-range."_

Before Wyatt had finished speaking, the HUD registered an incoming file and asked for permission to install.

"Yeah, yeah." Rourke tapped the confirmation switch on his diagnostic panel and waited. The upload only took eight seconds to finish, and then the communications came up green again.

**Optical Communications Patch 3.24 installed. **

"All right, I've got it. Now what?"

_"Eh? Oh. Right, go ahead and launch. No sense bothering you with it now."_

"Right." Rourke flipped his radio over to Seraph Flight's pilot channel and muttered, "He's gone crazy."

"Crazy or not, Rourke, he's got one heck of a brilliant mind locked in that moistened head of his." Dana countered. "Or did you forget that the Seraph was pretty much his idea?"

"Oh, there's no forgetting that." Rourke said, bringing his thrusters to full. A vibration rattled the ship as the G-Diffusers raced to compensate. "The Toads build things, the McClouds fly things, and the Starfox Team flies to save Corneria. Nothing ever changes."

"You're our leader now, lieutenant." Milo Granger pointed out. "I'd say that's a big difference."

"Ain't that the truth." Rourke disengaged the docking clamps and his Arwing blasted down the launch tunnel. Knowing when to take the hint, Milo and Dana followed.

The three Arwings blasted out away from the _Wild Fox_ for two kilometers, then looped back around and took adjoining orbits.

"Cornelius, this is Starfox." Rourke paused long enough to note how odd it was to say that phrase. "We're in position and ready for the jump."

_"Roger, Starfox. Set subspace beacon to tracking mode." _Came the flight controller's voice from the Cornerian surface. _"Wild Fox, you have the lead. Good hunting."_

Old flatscreen films used to portray the concept of switching to lightspeed or 'warp drive' as a gentle transition, where pinpricks of starlight stretched out to lines and the ambient noise changed to match.

As the three Seraph Arwings and their mothership shifted into subspace and soared through the underlying dimensional fabric of spacetime, Rourke again noted how silly it all was. There was no rush of high frequency noise, or blazing lines of white against the darkness of the void.

The ships simply all vibrated a little more strongly as they moved into FTL…And then everything was pale blues and purples and greens around them.

Subspace.

* * *

"Well, that's the most excitement we'll have around here for a while." Wyatt sighed. The chief engineer of the now public Project Seraphim tucked his webbed hands into his work coveralls and glanced over to the black bear standing nearby. "Ulie, I want you to double check the scrambler array. We're not going to get the chance to do spot repairs when we hit Venom, and I don't want them calling down the entire armada on our asses."

"You got it, boss!" Ulie saluted with a touch of his wrench to the forehead, then took off in a dash. Wyatt handed the radio communicator back over to Terrany.

"Thanks for letting me chat with 'em."

"No problem." The albino vixen replied. She turned off the transmitter and followed Wyatt through the hangar bay. "So that software patch you gave them…what's it for?"

"Oh, that?" Wyatt said absentmindedly. Eyes lost somewhere up ahead, he motioned with one webbed hand towards a set of open tables in front of them. "You remember where you and Rourke had your infamous first duel?"

"Remember?" Terrany repeated. The taste of the Pheran Desert's dust on Katina seemed to fill her mouth again. "That's not exactly something a person forgets."

"Yes, he did bounce you around a bit, didn't he?" Wyatt smiled. "Anyhow, Ulie and Milo had been monitoring your progress on the ground. They did it through these." They came up to the worktables where a strange cylindrical probe with a rounded head and a tapered end lay inert. It was about two-thirds her size.

Terrany stared at it, and though she didn't have a technical eye like Milo, enough years steeped in studying and flying Arwings betrayed the probe's most defining feature. "It's got a G-Diffuser unit?"

"A small one." Wyatt croaked, impressed. "Something this small doesn't need much. We launched a few of these around your battleground and recorded the dogfight. They hovered up unobtrusively; your radar probably didn't even pick them up."

"No, it didn't." Terrany admitted. She lowered her good hand to the hoverprobe's surface and ran her fingertips across the metal. "What do you call these?"

"Godsight Pods." Wyatt said. "You never know it's there, but it's always watching."

"Interesting saying. Did you come up with it yourself?"

"Actually, the name was Ulie's idea." Wyatt opened up the side of the probe with a screwdriver. "Anyhow, the plan is that we'll use this Godsight Pod to act as a midlink. You'll all use infrared beams to talk to it, it'll talk to us, let you talk to each other, and the Primals won't be able to eavesdrop."

"And in the meantime, you'll put a jamming beam down towards Venom's surface, so they can't radio for backup." Terrany summarized. "That's actually a really good plan, Wyatt."

"Glad you think so." Wyatt leaned in and reached for a connector. "Now, I've got some work to do here, so…"

"Right, right." Terrany waved him off and turned for the turbolift. "I'll leave the boring technicals to you."

"Boring?!" Wyatt called after her. "I'm making works of art here!"

* * *

_"Hey, kid. You all right?" _KIT's voice came so suddenly, it took Terrany a moment to realize the AI from her Arwing was speaking through her earring.

"Yeah, Kit. I'm fine. Just a little bit annoyed I can't fly yet, is all." She stepped into the turbolift when the doors hissed open and pressed the button for the ship's interior arboretum.

_"So I heard. I sympathize, but we need you at 100 percent. You won't get there getting shot down again."_

"That's one Hell of a vote of confidence, old bird." The doors hissed shut, and the lift started to rise.

_"Look, we got caught with our pants down. I don't think __**I**__ could've avoided it myself. They had us pinned down hard."_

Terrany let the hum of the lift soothe her. "Could you have tried, though?"

_"What do you mean?"_

"I know from experience you can fight me over the controls, and you can run the Seraph through the startup all on your lonesome." Terrany pressed a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of her snout. "Could you fly the Arwing without me?"

_"If that was the case, McCloud, I would've flown off after your brother abandoned me instead of rotting in Ursa's storage bay. No, I can perform limited maneuvers, but there has to be a body in our Seraph for any of that to be possible. It's a failsafe."_

"So why do any of this, then?" Terrany prodded. She slumped on the wall of the lift and stared at the ceiling. "You're a soul without a body. Why would you do that to yourself? It had to be for a more important reason than cancer."

KIT said nothing.

"Do you just not want to answer me, or is there no answer to give?"

_"Kid, when you got kicked out of the Air Force Academy, how come you didn't spend the rest of your life dusting crops?"_

Terrany blinked a few times. Her immediate thought was to respond to the question, but that was superseded by a more troubling one. "How did you know about that?"

In the same instant Terrany realized she knew how KIT knew her unceremonious end at the Academy, the albino McCloud also realized she hadn't needed to ask her own question.

Terrany **knew** why Falco had become a ghost in the machine.

Her finger pressed the button for the deck of the Medical Bay.

* * *

The silence of FTL travel was sometimes described as a deadening sensation. Given that the jump from Corneria to Venom was one of the longest routes (Excluding Sauria), that meant there were several hours where the three able-bodied members of Starfox could do very little except wait. Sleep, as they knew from experience, was difficult and out of the question, and so was any form of exercise more complex than stretching ones' arms or cracking the vertebrae in a sore back. The Seraph was not built for any consistent level of comfort.

Rourke twisted his head left as much as possible to alleviate a nasty crick in his neck. After a suitable pop, he looked up and double checked the countdown timer. Still another four hours and twenty-two minutes to go.

"We should've just launched from Wild Fox on arrival."

**"And what if we jumped into a hornet's nest and launch would have been suicidal?" **His ODAI shot back. **"You've dealt with worse, right?"**

"I'd love to know what you base that on, chump."

**"You forget that I've adapted to **_**your**_** personality. And right now, I know you're just complaining. So suck it up, pilot."**

Rourke glared at his diagnostics panel. "You know, I think I'm jealous of Milo's ODAI. That one at least shuts up."

**"Up yours, O'Donnell."**

Rourke finally cracked a grin. "Back at you." All he'd needed was a little argumentative tough love, something to remind him who he was. The AI of his Seraph had known the cure far better than most would. "Now patch me through to Dana and Milo, would you?"

**"Subspace radio chatter's restricted, boss."**

"I know that. Use the IR beams."

**"Hey chief, we're going faster than lightspeed here."**

"Yeah, and so are they. It's relative, all right? Subspace doesn't play by the rules. If we fired a laser beam in here, it'd still go faster than us."

**"Oh…right. Okay then, keep your shirt on. I'm making the call."**

There were a few clicks, and then Milo's voice came in through Rourke's headset. "Lieutenant? You established an optical feed. What's wrong?"

"I'm bored out of my skull and my ODAI's about as much fun as a brick wall."

**"I heard that, jerk."**

"Are you bored or worried, Rourke?" Dana cut in.

Rourke flexed his hand on the control stick. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little worried. This attack is risky, hasty, and we're charging in blind. For all we know, the Primal Fleet has massed at Venom."

"Unlikely." Milo disagreed. "Their speed and ferocity are audacious, but there are too many places in Lylat they have to secure. We'll have the advantage of surprise. I doubt they'll have more than two or three capital ships in orbit around Venom. It'll be dicey, but the Wild Fox should be able to hold them off long enough for us to finish our bombing run and RTB for the Portal Jump."

"And if you're wrong?" Dana remarked. The jaded perspective that shone through every so often since they'd lost Skip rose up again. "What happens if they've stationed an entire fleet there?"

"Then they lose points for unoriginality…And we boil like grobbins in a pot." Rourke grimly concluded.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

Dr. Bushtail pointed a penlight at Terrany's left eye and watched the dilation response. "You mean to say that you had access to one of your A.I's memories?"

"Yes, and he knew one of mine." Terrany said.

_"Knows, McCloud. Knows."_ KIT called over her earring.

"Shut up." Terrany muttered. Sherman glanced down and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, doc. I was talking to him." Terrany pointed to the stud in her earlobe.

"Oh, yes. Your two-way radio." Dr. Bushtail flicked his light off and tucked it away. "Well, what you're describing is transference." He waited until she gave him a blank look before going on. "It was…well, an early theory about Merge Mode applications. One I developed, actually."

"Yeah?" Terrany's ears perked up, and she didn't know whether to be interested or afraid.

The simian doctor didn't pick up on her concern. "When we first started out on the project, there was a certain amount of data bleedover that was expected. We're essentially joining the storage and processing abilities of your brain to a machine, after all. The reason that ODAIs develop personalities is because they pick up on the quirks of their operator. But it was supposed to be all one way…The pilot would influence the machine, not the other way around. That was another reason why we installed the five minute limiter."

"Well, something happened." Terrany nearly exploded. "Because I've got one of Falco's memories and he ended up with one of mine!"

The simian medical officer sat down in his rolling armchair and leaned back, not once looking away from her. "I can take another look at your Merge readouts, but I'd like to run a few more tests. If you're right, and there's been a case of transference with your memories, then this entire project may be in jeopardy. Unfortunately," Dr. Bushtail gestured to a crowded corner of the Medical Bay still jammed with boxes and gear Terrany didn't recognize, "I still haven't finished unpacking and setting up everything to even review your detailed biometrics, much less start a neurocellular scan for any abnormalities."

"So what do I do in the meantime?" Terrany pleaded.

"You're still off active duty, if that's what you were asking." Dr. Bushtail reached for her chart and started scribbling in a fresh line of text for the visit. "This new factor may extend that period, but you seem reasonably fine otherwise. I see no point in confining you to this facility or to your quarters. Once all of my equipment's been set up, I'll call you back and we'll do a thorough scan."

"Right." Terrany got up from the bed unsteadily. "I guess I'll just go for a walk then."

"And relax." Dr. Bushtail advised her. "Your condition is odd, but it's not life threatening."

She was out in the hallway when KIT spoke again. _"Well, it hasn't killed us, but I don't like it. My memories are mine."_

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Terrany snipped back. She made her way through the corridor and ignored the odd looks that the crew of her inherited ship was giving her. "I'm used to being myself. You know that. It wasn't just that you and I disagreed on strategy…I was afraid."

_"So was I. We're still here though. I guess I can begrudge a little memory transfer every now and then…It's not like I lost them. I just gave you a copy."_

"Oh, you're joking about this now, eh?"

_"It beats the alternative, kid. There's no sense in worrying about it, and besides, we're not flying. So whatever the problem is, it can't get any worse."_

"Hm. You do have a point."

_"Go get yourself a cup of coffee. Maybe a doughnut. I'm going to shut down for a while."_

"Do you actually sleep, Kit?"

_"I mostly just remember."_Her earpiece clicked, letting her know that KIT had disabled the connection on his end.

Terrany breathed and made her way down towards the elevator. "Coffee. As if I needed a caf to stay awake."

* * *

_Arspace Dynamics_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

"Blast it, can't you get these supplies loaded up any faster?!" Slippy warbled. A strength had found its way into the old wart's voice that his company's employees hadn't heard him use for years. Of course, given the circumstances, he had every reason to be energetic.

Or worried.

He hobbled along on his cane, keeping pace with the hoversleds loaded down with power cells and mechanical components. "We've got to get this gear in the transports as soon as possible. Once my grandson and the rest of 'em get done blowing up that station on Venom, we're going to have our hands full rescuing what's left of the Fleet!"

"Sir, you shouldn't be out here!" His secretary dashed after him, doing her best to keep her hair straight in the blowing wind. "You'll catch a chill!"

"Evelyn, just because I'm cold-blooded doesn't mean I need a flipping hot rock underneath me all bleeding day." Slippy answered. "I feel more alive than I have in years. Right now, the best and brightest this planet has to offer is out there fighting to strike a blow against the Primals. Putting up with a little outdoor air is the least I can do."

"Sir, my first priority is to your health."

"Then go make me a cup of tea." Slippy ordered her, with more fire than he normally gave. There was no polite smile, no genial grandfatherly tone. Evelyn stood there, and Slippy finally sighed and looked at her. "Please?"

"O…of course, sir." She nodded, and started to turn around.

"And Evelyn?" Slippy asked, catching her before she could flee.

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't be afraid of the old man showing a little spine every now and then." Slippy reassured her. "It's just some of an old friend's least desirable traits rubbing off on me."

"You met an old friend, sir?"

In the back of his head, Slippy could hear Falco smirk at his condition.

"One of the best."

* * *

_Venom Secondary Command Center_

The Primal on station overseeing the immediate airspace around Venom found his job rather boring. Ever since the bulk of the fleet had left for other corners of the system to strengthen their holdings, Venom, albeit the prized gem in their crown of conquests, had become tedious. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the console that was one manned by Venomian troopers and did his best not to fall asleep. Doing so would be immediate cause for a severe reprimand; something that every trooper did their best to avoid.

Just then, something exciting happened. A blip appeared on his scope…

A ship was dropping out of lightspeed next to Venom. _Very_ close.

"Sir?" The Primal said, getting the attention of the officer of the watch. The white-haired lieutenant marched over and stared over the radar operator's shoulder.

"Yes, what is it?"

"A ship's just appeared 200 kilometers above the surface. Did we have a scheduled arrival?" The Primal tapped his screen. "The size seems right for one of our transport carriers."

"The shape doesn't, though." The lieutenant growled. He stared for a moment before realization dawned on him. "That's the enemy!"

Three smaller blips disengaged from the large ship, moving on a speed course for the planet's surface. "Oh, blast it." The lieutenant whispered. "Those are…"

Even the radar operator knew what those were. The radar signature of _that_ ship had been drilled into every Primal's head. They had been told to hunt and kill them down, and not to fear them.

In spite of the Lord of Flames' proclamation, though, he was sure every Primal trembled when an Arwing, much less three, appeared on their scopes.

"Sound the alarm!" The lieutenant roared, whirling to the rest of the control room. "And open a channel to the Fleet! Tell them we need reinforcements _NOW!"_

The radio operator let out a panicked screech, and found himself pounding the buttons in futility. "It's no good, sir! Our communications have been blocked! They're jamming us!"

The Primal lieutenant seethed for a moment, then lifted up the landline phone by the radar operator. _That_ much, he knew, the enemy couldn't stop at a distance. He was put through to Venom's Primal defense command immediately.

"Alert all stations. We have inbound Arwings."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

"Jamming beam is active, General!"

"I'd say we have their attention, then." The old hound packed his pipe with more loose tobacco, but didn't light it. He stopped long enough to thumb the intercom on his armrest. "Wyatt, bridge. You got your new toys ready to fly yet?"

_"Affirmative, sir! They're loaded up in the missile bays; Salvos 12 and 15, five to a shot."_

"You fit five on a single missile?"

_"They're pretty small, general, but they get the job done. I'll control them from down here in the hangar bay's engineering section. ROB set up an interlink for me."_

"Right, the robot." General Grey mused. He still wasn't fully enthused about the idea of that walking AI being so hardwired into the ship's systems that he could tell the kitchen coffeepot to brew a carafe with a blink. "And you're sure this'll work?"

_"You worry about your own problems, general. I've got this covered."_ Wyatt shut down the connection.

General Grey harrumphed and jammed his pipe between his teeth again. "All right. Launch salvo 12, and give me a contacts readout."

Hogsmeade snorted. "We've got two light assault ships on the radar and what seems to be a transport. Damned thing looks a bunch of bubbles hanging from a branch."

"Eventually, we're going to have to name all these ships." Executive Officer Dander quipped. "Salvo 12 is away and deploying. Shall we open fire, general?" He was standing at weapons control, next to the robot ROB. ROB's hand hovered over the targeting stick.

General Grey watched the viewscreen that dominated the front of the bridge. It was currently displaying an enhanced optical feed of the airspace in front of them, with the enemy ships outlined in red.

"Do it." Grey ordered.

Under ROB's precise controls, the twin turbolasers at the prow of the _Wild Fox_ opened up, spitting raging fire. Driven by the impulse vacuum drive at the heart of the ship, the darts flew true and buried themselves into the first of the ships, half the _Wild Fox's_ size.

It feebly tried to turn about for an attack of its own, but to no avail. The cruiser's shields gave out, and the laserbolts that followed blasted gaping holes. The vacuum of space finished the job, and the lights of the ship faded out. It hung there, listless and dead, and failed to explode.

Not every ship did, after all.

"One down." General Grey mused to himself.

* * *

Salvo 12 had the appearance of any other Lylus-class cruise missile. The _Wild Fox_'s missile launchers were placed not at the immediate prow of the ship where the launch bay and turbolasers rested, but farther back, and on its keel. A heavily armored, ray-shielded panel slid back a full eight meters, and a rack of four launch tubes extended out a meter and a half into firing position. Only one missile, Salvo 12, flew off.

It burned a straight course from the _Wild Fox_ to the surface below, and right at the edge of the denser atmosphere, a panel behind the nose of the missile blew off its explosive-primed hinges. One of the Godsight Pods Wyatt had spent so much time developing detached from the missile and engaged its G-Diffuser unit and maneuvering thrusters. It held position just above the atmosphere, and powered up the optical communications relay it carried. A momentary blink of infrared laser later, it was connected to the _Wild Fox._

Salvo 12 continued down, releasing four more Godsight Pods within the upper atmosphere. They dispersed in an outwards pattern, connecting first to each other, and then to the Godsight Pod high above them.

The last step was to connect the Arwings beneath them. Five rather insignificant seconds was all it took, and all systems were green. As an afterthought, the Lylus Missile that had carried them exploded in midair, making any radar operators who had been watching think that the missile had disintegrated upon re-entry and finally vaporized itself.

The five Godsight Pods held position, able to watch and relay communications over a vast cone-shaped area from the _Wild Fox_ to the battleground below.

* * *

The second attack cruiser finally got a bead and hurled everything it had. Laserbolts slammed into the _Wild Fox's_ shields, creating flares where they landed.

_"General, the Godsight Pods have established a link. We're good to go!"_

"Make sure that Dr. Bushtail has a stable readout of the synch ratios and biometrics, Wyatt." Grey answered. "He seemed more worried than normal."

The turbolift doors opened up at the back of the bridge, and the general glanced back. A breathless Terrany appeared. "I'm here, general!"

The old hound offered a small, wry smile, and motioned to the pilot's seat, where a red-feathered cardinal avian was on station. "Relieve Corporal Updraft. I'm assuming that you can still fly a crate this big."

"The doctor didn't want me pulling G's." Terrany replied, making her way to the seat. The avian stood up and nodded to her as she plopped down and grabbed the controls. "I've still got enough gumption to fly this rustbucket."

"Pilot McCloud, this rustbucket is your family's legacy." ROB observed mechanically.

Terrany grinned, and spun the _Wild Fox_ around a salvo of 'dumb' missiles. "Then I'd best make sure it stays alive."

General Grey thumbed his chair again, and selected the channel for the infrared communications circuit with one of the programmable hot-buttons. "Rourke, we've got to clear the skies up here. Hit them hard and fast."

_"You just keep those Warp Gate capacitors charged up, general. We'll handle the rest."_

* * *

_Venomian Airspace_

Inside his cockpit, Milo Granger wasn't one to waste time. Neither was his ODAI, which knew him well enough to already scan for what he wanted to know.

_"There are anti-air defenses situated around the control facility." _The AI said tonelessly.

"We were expecting that." Milo kept his eyes on the HUD, which began displaying them kilometers below. "How much?"

_"Approximately eighteen missile launchers and twenty-four gun emplacements. Also, the Control Center is heavily shielded. Estimate Pulse laserfire will be ineffective."_

"Wonderful." Milo drew in a breath. "How's your aim today, ODAI?"

_"My targeting sensors are fully functional."_

"Let's find out. Prepare for Merge Mode."

_"Acknowledged. Starting Merge checklist."_

"Rourke, Milo here."

"Go ahead, Milo."

"They're packing some serious defenses down there. Our attack run's going to be real short. I'm going to soften them up with some long-range artillery fire."

"All right. It looks like they've got some company heading for us, though; make it quick." Rourke was cool, but firm. Milo checked his radar and nodded. A flight of Primal fighters was closing on them, and looked to be a minute out.

"You want it quick or you want it right?"

"Both!"

Milo smiled and closed his eyes. The familiar prickly sensation ran across his scalp where his helmet's interface nodes touched, and then he saw through the Seraph's…ODAI's…eyes.

Outside, Milo's Seraph unfolded the two extra set of wings, and the G-Negator units split into their quartered diamond formation. The extra guns lay silent, and only the nose cannon was left aglow with terrible power.

_All systems at maximum._

_**Good. Then let's test out that new Pulse laser.**_

* * *

_Venom Secondary Command Center_

The lieutenant breathed through clenched teeth. "What are they doing?"

"They're just…they've leveled off, sir. One's gone completely stationary. The other two are circling it."

"I don't like it. Not at all." The Primal lieutenant shook his head. "Are our defenses ready for them?"

"Yes, sir. They're still out of range, though." The radar operator paused, then added, "They might be waiting to deal with our aerial reinforcements before coming for us."

"If that was the case, they'd fly right at them." The lieutenant quickly dismissed the idea. "No, they're doing something el…"

The first explosion of a destroyed missile launcher rattled the entire building, even through their shields.

"Fire almighty!" The lieutenant swore, wincing as the alarms went off. "They're shooting at us!"

"But that's impossible!" The Primal at communications blubbered. "Our shields, they can't penetrate it! We didn't record them having a strong enough weapons system to do it when they defended Corneria!"

The lieutenant brought up an optical camera feed, and watched blazing white bolt after laserbolt plummet from the skies above, shattering their outer defensive positions one after another. His eyes hardened. "You didn't see the intelligence report. There was one of the Starfox Arwings that had that kind of power."

A fifth laser artillery piece went up in smoke, too close for comfort. The explosion rattled through the ground under their feet, and the Primals all ducked, hooting in panic.

The lieutenant kept himself composed and prayed to the Lord of Flames to deliver them. _I only hope it stops before we're all dead._

* * *

Fourteen shots and twenty seconds later, the new Pulse capacitor finally reached the redline.

_I would advise we shut down for now, Pilot Granger. Your rate of fire again exceeded the heatsink dissipation value._

_**You give me a better gun, Odai, I'll use it. Just as well, though; I've cleared out their strategic placements.**_

_Acknowledged. They no longer have overlapping fields of fire._

_**Just the way I like it.**_

Milo opened his eyes and gave the command to shut down Merge Mode early. Having spent so little time in the Merge, the transition to normal flight was painless. "You know, Rourke, I think I'm getting used to this."

"Is that good or bad, sergeant?"

"Different." The raccoon observed, rubbing at his eyes. "I think I just put a scare into them. How's our incoming bogies doing?" He didn't need to ask the question, as his ODAI had routed the significant radar return data from the others' Seraphs to his through the infrared laser linkup from the Godsight pods, but it was the polite thing to do.

Dana piped in. "They're getting closer. Why didn't you just shoot the building to pieces when you had the chance?"

"That would have been impossible, I'm afraid." Milo answered dryly. "My ODAI took a reading on that structure's shields. It's strong enough to block anything but a sustained direct attack."

"Hardened targets." Rourke grumbled. "General, how come you forgot to mention this place had shields?!"

_"It didn't, O'Donnell." _Came the old hound's gruff reply. _"Those must be something the Primals brought with them. Deal with it."_

"Ugh." O'Donnell made a face and closed off his connection with the mothership above. He switched to the Starfox team's private channel. "Remind me again why we listen to him?"

"He writes our paychecks." Dana said, swooping around. "And I'm thinking that it's time we got a nice fat one. You boys figure out how you're going to destroy that Control Center. I'll keep these flies off your backs!"

"You sure you can handle them alone?" Rourke asked.

"If I can't, I'll ask for help." Dana chided him. "Now get going!"

"Fair enough." Rourke sent his Seraph into a dive. "Form up on my wing, Milo. I'll keep the heat off your back, you roast that base."

Rourke and Milo dove for the surface below to start their attack run, and Dana turned for the flight of five Primal fighters coming at them. "Good luck, boys." She singsonged.

"Stay alive, Tiger." Rourke replied.

* * *

_Venomian Airspace _

They were known as Tinder Squadron in the Primal's armada. The Primals would have been amused to know that the Starfox team so often spoke of was little more than a mercenary crew; the concept of warring for money was so foreign to them. It was better, though, that they didn't know that particular detail. It might have caused them to underestimate the squadron which had successfully repelled the Cornerian invasion.

Their Flight Lead, Tinder 1, had trained his men to a razor's edge. They had been left behind on Venom as an honor guard for the Primal forces left on station. Flying in the cockpit of his menacing Burnout atmospheric fighter, there was no challenge that he couldn't take on.

His heart raced as they closed on the lone Arwing who had turned to challenge them, not from fear, but excitement. He clamped the switch in his mouth that activated his helmet's microphone. "Tinder 1 to all planes. Don't underestimate this one. Fly smart. Tinder 4 and 5, you're on my wing."

"Roger, Tinder 1. Changing formation." Came Tinder 4's steady reply.

The five Burnout fighters spun around each other in a practiced aerial swirl and reformed into two groups. The variable swept-wing interceptors lifted up and down one last time to gauge their ailerons, and then the doors on their underwing missile bays opened.

"Fifteen seconds until intercept." Tinder 5 called out.

"Tinder 4 and 5, double tap Slammer."

Two sets of mike clicks answered Tinder 1, and then the two fighters on his wing jumped up slightly as the weight of two NIFT-24 "Slammer" missiles detached from the bay hardpoints. Their motors roared to life and burned through the thin Venomian atmosphere towards their closing target. They left a burning red and white smoke trail in their wake.

* * *

_"Incoming missiles. Incoming missiles. You might want to evade." _Milo's ODAI was dry as salt, Rourke's was snippety.

Dana's just loved to point out the obvious.

"You _think?!" _The orange-furred feline snarled. She jerked back on the control stick and hit the thrusters. Missiles hadn't been used on Cornerian fighter craft for ages, though the principles on how to avoid them hadn't changed much. If you could steer out of its targeting scope faster than it could track you, the missile would lose its lock, fly off harmlessly, and frizzle out.

That was assuming that you could go faster than the missile turned. It didn't always work out that well.

Even with the G-Diffuser nullifying most of Venom's gravitational pull and the stresses caused by the maneuver, Dana had to clench her body up to keep her blood from pooling in her legs. It had been a while since she'd had to make a jink that hard. _Creator almighty, I've gotten spoiled from Merge Mode._

The missiles were still tracking in, looping up as she soared at a forty-five degree angle.

"Come on, miss. Miss, damn it." Dana hissed. She could feel her ears flatten against her head under her helmet. Merge Mode would have been incredibly helpful here, but she hadn't thought she'd need it, and there was also an unspoken fear that she didn't want the Primals learning the upper range of her performance this soon. Her right hand moved on its own, sliding the thruster output even higher. The Seraph began to rattle, the shields struggling to deflect the heat and friction caused from air particles smashing into the jet. "Miss!"

The last bit of boost did the trick. Her Seraph screamed through Mach 2 and into Mach 3, and finally outpaced the targeting scopes of the four missiles. She eased back to normal thrust and gasped for air, letting go of the breath she'd been holding for nearly ten seconds.

She inverted her Seraph and glanced up…or rather, down towards the skies and ground below. Three of the fighters were closing in on her fast, opening up with their laser cannons. Two more hung back, a few seconds behind.

"Seen this tactic." Dana muttered. They wanted her to evade the first three and get shot down by the last pair when she lost the speed advantage. She wasn't a true Air Force Academy brat like Carl had been, but she was damned good at getting the most out of her planes.

And Carl McCloud had taught her a great many things.

She went into a dive, straight at the first cluster, and barrel-rolled like mad. Ignoring the world around her, she kept her eyes bored straight ahead. It was the only way she knew how to keep from becoming disoriented during the defensive maneuver. The G-Negator units on her Arwing flared to life, turning her shields deflective for a fraction of a second on every complete rotation. Their shots bounced off harmlessly, and Dana thumbed her secondary weapons button on the control stick.

A glowing red projectile shot out of her bomb launcher, fired dumb at the group below. Dana grinned and followed its path. With her shields at maximum, the filter system would have no problem nullifying the smart bomb's power.

Their shields, on the other hand…?

* * *

_Tinder Squadron_

"Incoming! Break, BREAK!" Tinder 1 called out. To his team's credit, they were already banking hard left and right to avoid the shot. Tinder 1 had a choice; veer straight up and let the Arwing gain a bead on his more vulnerable belly, or dive and let the craft get a chance at burning a hole through his canopy. The shields were stronger around the cockpit.

He dove.

A thick explosion of red light baked the air above him as he screamed for the desolate Venomian surface below. He winced and turned away from the glare in spite of his helmet's shaded visor. If he hadn't, he would have seen the Arwing emerge unscathed through the explosion and turn sharply towards him, easily slipping into his contrails. His wingmen, bless their blazing hearts, saw it for him.

"He's on your six, captain! Bank right, we'll get him off your back!" Tinder 4 shouted.

Breathing in short, timed bursts, Tinder 1 glanced behind him long enough to see the Arwing bearing in. Using instincts more than his sight, he waited until the pilot of that hated spacecraft readied to fire. He could almost _feel_ their hand reaching for the trigger.

He banked hard right, and the surprised aircraft had a moment's lapse before it struggled to catch up and follow his turn. That moment was all Tinder 4 and 5 needed to fill the air around the pilot with a hail of laserfire. Looking out the right side of his cockpit, he could see the Arwing's shields flare up under the battering attack.

Tinder 1 smiled, and keyed in his mike to open frequency. He wanted the pilot to hear him.

"Tinder 1 to all planes. Finish him off."

* * *

_Venom Secondary Command Center_

_2 kilometers out_

"You sure you made this trip easier?" Rourke grunted.

"Easier, but not a cakewalk." Milo answered. While Rourke tossed his Arwing into another barrel roll to avoid being strafed to swiss cheese, Milo targeted the offending installation and fired off a homing laserburst. The crew manning the gun fled away from it, and just avoided the radius of the heatblast that melted the barrel to slag. "Besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things interesting."

"I'd prefer to be alive." Rourke said. The sound of a radar warning carried over his communicator. "Shoot, they've got a lock on me!"

"Steady on." Milo cautioned his flight lead. "I see it. 800 yards up ahead. Go in guns blazing."

"Balls to the wall crazy then." Rourke clarified. He swooped down even lower and peppered a strafing path towards the missile launcher. It launched two shots at him, but both were incinerated by his attack before they'd gotten more than 100 yards out. The launcher followed, scraps of metal flying up into the air when all the remaining SAMs exploded from the heat. "Heh! Lylus, I love a jet that fights back!"

"You pirate, you." Milo laughed. "We've got two more gun emplacements up ahead. No crossfire to worry about, but I'd hate for them to plug a stray round into our asses."

"You go right, I'll go left."

"Roger." The two Arwings split away from each other and set their course. Both began charging up a laserburst at their noses, a sure sign that they were still thinking straight.

Then all Hell broke loose.

The ground seemed to erupt up in front of them, and projectiles the size of their cockpits burst from the harsh soil. They came up in front of their flight paths and exploded, raining deadly shrapnel out in every direction.

"Holy freakin' MOTHER!" Rourke swore, spinning up high. A good blast of shrapnel had slammed into him before the maneuver, and his shields were angrily beeping at him. They'd been meant to deal with minor interstellar debris and energy weapons fire; Crude projectiles, which the Primals seemed excessively fond of, ate through them rather quickly. "What the Hell are those things?"

"Land mines!" Came Milo's curt response. He sounded like he had his own hands full.

"I never heard of any land mines that targeted ships before!"

"And you're gonna pick now to get upset about it? Come on, lieutenant!" Milo was gruff, even as the warning dings from his shields came through Rourke's headset. "Get back on course and stop bristling."

"What are you, my mother?"

"I'm not that ugly." Milo retorted. Rourke chuckled at the comeback and brought himself back down again. "I'm getting baked here. Got any ideas?"

Rourke wanted to think about it, but when he pulled back to level flight over the ground, another jumping land mine shot up towards him. He barrel-rolled on instinct alone, and found to his surprise that he emerged from the blast unscathed.

He wanted to slap himself after. "Milo, barrel roll right before they go off. The deflective field your G-Diffuser puts out is strong enough to bend the shrapnel away from you."

"…Of course. If it can make lasers bounce off of you, why wouldn't it?" Milo said. "I've got a name for these things. Jumper Mines."

"Unoriginal." Rourke observed.

"So are they." Milo answered. "Andross used something similar, I think. Just keep your head on straight, and we'll be blowing down their doorstep any second now."

_"Uh, fellas?" _Dana's voice came over the radio, clear as a bell from the optical linkup. _"I could use some help up here!"_

"Those Primals giving you a hard time?"

_"They're manned fighters!" _Dana sounded frantic. She grunted over the line. _"I can't…I can't get away from them!"_

Rourke and Milo pulled their Arwings alongside each other and glanced the distance between their cockpit canopies. They shared a worried expression.

"You go help her out, Rourke. I can handle this." Milo offered.

"Like Hell you can. Your shields are worse than mine. You go help her out. Shoot 'em out of the sky like flies with that sniper laser of yours."

"I'd love to, but the Pulse capacitor's still cooling down."

The radio chirped to life again, a crystal clear voice coming down from the _Wild Fox._

_"Rourke, Milo? You two stay on course. Dana? Just hang on. I'm coming for you!"_

* * *

_The Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

The second attack cruiser had put up a serious fight for its life, unleashing Hell on the _Wild Fox_ in their skirmish. Unluckily, between the sturdy shields and some rather crazed maneuvering on the part of Terrany, the damage it had given them was minimal. What it had done was bought the transport ship in orbit time to maneuver away from the melee.

Over at communications, Woze flicked his tail and gave a worried glance to General Grey. "They got a signal out, sir."

"Damnit!" The general finally reached for his matches. "We don't have long before they send in the cavalry, then."

"Hey, look at the bright side." Terrany pointed out. "The _Wild Fox_ got its first successful field test, and passed with flying colors."

"It's still just one ship." General Grey struck a match and lit his pipe. "Sasha, advise Serap…The Starfox team that they need to hustle things up. We're going to have plenty of company real soon."

Sasha's hand was halfway to the console when a panicked message came up from the Godsight Pods' interlink. _"Uh, fellas? I could use some help up here!"_

"That was Dana." Terrany was instantly on alert.

"Wyatt! Can we get a feed of the battleground from those flying footballs of yours?"

_"They're not footballs, and yes. I'm patching it to ROB as we speak."_

"Confirmed." ROB droned from the weapons console. The robot tilted its head back just slightly. "I am transferring it to the main monitor."

A bleak image of five Primal fighters, each carrying a red and gunmetal gray color scheme, appeared. At the center of them, struggling not to get shot to pieces, was Dana Tiger's Arwing.

Sasha piped up again. "Sir, I'm picking up comms chatter from those Primal fighters. They're calling themselves Tinder Squadron."

"Son of a bitch." The general puffed away for a moment. "They've got a named squadron on station down on Venom? That can't be good."

Hogsmeade looked grim. "Their radar cross-signatures are impressive. I'm picking up what looks like internal missile bays alongside their laser cannons. They're solely atmospheric, but maneuverability and thrusters appears comparable to a Model K." He paused. "Maybe a little better."

"They're going to tear her apart." Terrany realized. A lump welled up in her throat.

Unaware of the mental struggle aboard the _Wild Fox_, Dana frantically went on. _"They're manned fighters! I can't…I can't get away from them!"_

"One of the others has to help her, or we'll lose her for sure." Woze said.

General Grey's eyes hardened. "Negative. They know their mission. The destruction of that control station is of primary importance. We can't risk the operation for a single Arwing."

Terrany whirled about, livid, and seemed ready to tear the old hound's head clean off for his abrasive and cold-hearted demeanor. It was KIT's voice in her ear that stopped her. _"He's right, kid. It's not fair, but we've got thousands of troopers and millions of civilian lives hanging in the balance. If they don't blow up that station, this is all for nothing."_

"I can't lose Dana." Terrany muttered back. "I've already lost Skip. I can't lose her, too."

_"Yeah?" _KIT said, gaining a hard edge in his tone. _"So what are you gonna do about it?"_

Terrany glanced at the screen, where she watched Dana struggle futilely to survive. Somehow, the hand on her good arm found its way to the bad one, which was supposedly still setting from the Calcifuse that mended her broken bones.

Her eyes hardened, and she made her choice. The white-furred McCloud marched to the communications station and yanked the headset out of Sasha's hands.

"Rourke, Milo? You two stay on course. Dana? Just hang on. I'm coming for you!" She dropped the headset and charged for the turbolift doors.

The XO stepped in her way, holding a paw out to stop her. "Excuse me?" He said incredulously. "McCloud, you're still not cleared for duty yet!"

"Sir, we don't exactly have a lot of choices right now." Terrany snapped. "I'm not losing her to these bastards. So you can either get out of my way, or I can do to you the same thing I did to Rourke when he tried to stop me from taking off!"

Executive Officer Dander considered the threat for a moment, then smoothly stepped to the side. "If Dr. Bushtail asks, you flattened me."

Terrany smirked. "Shoot, a little thing like me pounding a big cat like you? He'll never believe it." She dashed past him and stepped into the elevator, then called out the command before the doors were even closed. "Hangar bay!"

General Grey exhaled another cloud of tobacco smoke into the air, which was quickly ventilated away by the fans in the ceiling. "Rather unusual style of command there, Thomas."

"Something I learned from my wife, sir." The orange tabby replied, straightening his uniform's tie. "Women will pretty much do whatever they feel like. We can court martial her later."

"The way I see it, she'll come back a hero from this stunt, or she'll die a rogue." General Grey puffed again. "Meantime, let's see about softening up that station's shields, shall we?"

* * *

_"I take it you want me to warm up the engines?"_

"As if you needed to ask." Terrany told KIT. The turbolift hummed as it continued its rapid descent to the bottom of the ship. "I'm not losing Dana. Especially not to a squadron _stupid_ enough to name themselves Tinder."

_"I've been thinking about that. They seem to have an unhealthy obsession with fire. The Lord of Flames…Tinder Squadron…Must mean something."_

"It means they like to burn things." Terrany said. "But we knew that. Link up to ROB and pull everything on these planes that you can from Dana's Arwing. I want to know exactly what kind of furball I'm flying into here."

_"Yeah, I'm working on it. Would you believe I can do two things at once now?"_

The turbolift came to a stop, and the doors opened onto the hangar bay. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see Ulie Darkpaw racing towards her. The black-furred ursine pulled up short and nodded. "I figured out what you were up to when I heard your Seraph starting to power up. You're going down there, aren't you?"

Terrany marched past him, and Ulie had to jog to keep up with her smooth pace. "Yes, I am." She slid down the handrail of the metallic steps to the workfloor of the hangar bay sidesaddle, and pushed off with her good arm. "We don't have a choice. Rourke and Milo have their hands full with the mission. I'm all that's left to save Dana."

"Even though you're still not cleared for active duty?" Ulie called down with a laugh.

Terrany ignored the remark and made her way to her Seraph. One of the other technicians was standing by the craft and had a rolling ladder set up beside the cockpit. Terrany gave the man a thankful nod and clambered up the ladder and into the cockpit. She scooped up her helmet from the seat before she fell into it.

_"Welcome aboard, kid." _KIT said. _"It's a good day for flying. How's that arm of yours?"_

"It'll manage." Terrany said. She slipped her helmet on over her head and felt the sting of the cold metal bumps on it against her scalp. She powered up the G-Diffusers and activated her ship-to-ship radio. "Wild Fox, this is Terrany. I'm set for launch."

_**"Roger, McCloud. Dr. Bushtail is up here, and he would like to read you the riot act, over."**_It was Sasha, still double-tasking communications.

Terrany smiled. "Well, you can tell him that I'll be going down there regardless of what he considers medically sound. However, I'll take any medical advice other than staying grounded under advisement."

_**"Very well…He's grumbling about it, but he says that as long as you stay out of Merge Mode, you should be fine. Your arm should be set by now."**_

"Words to live by." The canopy over her cockpit lowered down, then hissed as it achieved magnetic seal and pressurized. "Kit, all systems green?"

_"Ready when you are. No Merge Mode, though? Damn, takes all the fun out of this."_

"You're just upset you won't be doing the flying."

_"I NEVER do the flying! Jeez, McCloud. It's like trying to get the damn remote away from you!"_

"Well, at least we know who wears the pants in this relationship."

_"I was wearing pants before your FATHER was a twinkle in your granddad's eye!"_

Terrany let off a short barking laugh. "Come on, Falco. Save that rage for the Primals."

_"I've got plenty to go around."_

"That's why I like ya."

The Seraph Arwing already sat on a hydraulic platform. The floor shook, and Terrany felt the Arwing beginning to lower down. She glanced over to starboard just in time to see Wyatt Toad glance up from his Godsight Pod control station. The green-skinned amphibian smiled and gave her one short nod. Terrany nodded back.

Down from the hangar bay and onto the flight deck. Magnetic clamps attached to the rear of the Arwing as the platform settled down, and the running lights flickered on. They stayed at red as she brought the thrusters up to maximum, then yellow…

Then green.

The clamps detached, and her Seraph shot down the launch corridor. The running lights showed her the way out. Three seconds later, she cleared the translucent energy barrier that separated the ship's atmosphere from the void. Being surrounded by darkness with a planet below was infinitely more inspiring than being on board the mothership.

Terrany toggled her wings from launch position to interceptor mode, broadening their sweep out. A beep on her HUD informed her she'd made linkup with the optical communications network. "Wild Fox, this is Terrany. I'm in the clear."

_"Get moving, McCloud." _General Grey advised her gruffly.

Terrany grinned and hit her boosters, screaming down to the surface below. One thought permeated her mind.

**I belong here.**

* * *

_Venomian Airspace_

"This Arwing's a nimble little thing." Tinder 3 offered up. He'd fired his last missile, and somehow the blue and silver spacecraft had managed to spin out of harm's way. The proximity fuse had triggered, and some of the flak from the NIFT-24 "Slammer" had chewed up some more of the thing's precious shielding, but still no definite kill.

Tinder 1 remained unfazed. "He can't dodge all five of us forever. We're whittling him down. No ship is invincible, remember that."

"We'll get him." Tinder 5 promised. "Count on it, boss." Already, Tinder 2 and 4 had achieved a deadly crossfire on the Cornerian superfighter, and were unleashing a stream of fire that left it no room to maneuver out of harm's way.

Tinder 1 pulled into a high-G turn, clenching every muscle in his body to keep the blood in his brain and vitals. It brought him on the Arwing's six, perfect firing position. His forward-scan radar beeped, then let out a solid drone. "Good tone. FIRING!" The thump of the detaching missile from his armaments bay was a welcome sound. Even more welcome was the roar of the missile's rocket motor, and the sound of a direct hit. A cloud of smoke and shrapnel swallowed the Arwing. It emerged out of the cloud battered, with its shields flickering, and with several holes punched through its wings. One of its engines even seemed to be flaring out.

In spite of their training, Tinder Squadron let out several exultant cheers as the Arwing started to trail smoke.

Tinder 1 grinned. "Tinder 4, take the shot."

"Yes, SIR!" Tinder 4 snapped. The others backed off as Tinder 4 lined up behind the incapacitated Arwing. The Primal pilot narrowed his eyes and lined up the gunsight pipper with the Arwing's sole surviving engine. "Suffer not an Arwing to live." He offered, and his finger began to squeeze the trigger.

A volley of blue laserfire soared in from the skies and space above, and ripped Tinder 4 to pieces. "I'm taking fire, ejecting!" The pilot screamed. His canopy popped open and pilot and seat were shot out. He managed to make it clear just before his Burnout fighter craft exploded in a massive orange fireball.

The other members of Tinder Squadron all went into evasive maneuvers. "Damnit, where the Hell did that come from?!" Tinder 3 yelled. Tinder 1 glanced up and squinted, even through his visor, towards the red sun that lit Venom from a distance.

Another fighter was coming straight down out of its glare. Their radio crackled.

_"Fun's over, Tinder Squadron."_

* * *

Dana had thought for sure her number was up. Her shield gauge showed that the last missile they'd fired at her had put enough holes in the craft to turn the expensive airframe into a sieve, as well as force one of the plasma thrusters to shut down to prevent an explosion. Only 12 percent power remaining. Her ODAI had been kind enough to share the radio transmissions from the five jets as they relentlessly hounded her.

She expected death to come, but it wasn't hers. Too shaken and battered by the harrowing flight for her life to bank away, she felt, more than heard, the explosion behind her. And then came the second most beautiful voice she'd ever heard in her life, after Carl's.

"Fun's over, Tinder Squadron."

A fresh wave of adrenaline surged through Dana's veins. "Terrany?"

"What, you thought I'd leave you hanging?" Came the casual reply. "How bad's your ship?"

"I'm down to 12 percent shielding and this thing's like a leaky bucket. I still have cabin pressure, though." Dana gripped her control stick with newfound power.

"Good." Terrany finally swooped into view, turning on two of the fighters that had veered off together. A charged laserbolt forced the two to scatter apart even farther. "You have any smart bombs left?"

"Only got off one." Dana replied. "But I can't fire one off and survive the blast now."

"Perfectly fine. I want you to shoot one at me." Terrany grunted. She took the turn sharper than the other two, enduring extra G's to angle her nose just right. A flurry of laserfire cut off the lead plane and battered its shields, so dead on that it ate a hole through the thing's shields and sheared a wing clean off. The injured craft went into a death spiral, trailing smoke all the way.

"You want me to **what?**" Dana repeated incredulously.

* * *

"Damnit, she took out Tinder 2!" Tinder 5 cried out. Tinder 1 gritted his teeth and held back his biting remark. It wouldn't do him or Tinder 3 and 5 any good now to remind them about his standing remarks on keeping the airwaves clear.

"Steady on. The other Arwing's too damaged to give us any trouble. Focus on that bitch who took down our comrades!"

_"I'm a bitch, huh?" _The Arwing pilot who'd opened a line to them mused darkly. _"Maybe I should start shooting at your wingmen while they're parachuting to safety."_ She waggled her wings, clearly taunting them.

"You motherless _whore!_" Tinder 3 screamed. As the Arwing passed underneath him, he inverted, then hit his afterburners into a shallow U-Turn that dropped him right on her tail. "I'll flay you alive!" He fired a burst of laserfire from his nose cannon, straight on.

The Arwing merely barrel-rolled, somehow maintaining position along its flight path. The shots bounced off of her as though her ship had suddenly gained ray shielding._"Gotta catch me first, asshole!"_

A second of the three remaining Primal fighters came after her with that base comeback. "Tinder 5. Three, I'm on backup."

"Roger, let's chase this Starfox freak down and finish the job!"

"Hold formation!" Tinder 1 called out frantically. Something about all this just didn't add up. Nobody was that cocky. Nobody rushed into four to one odds and dared their opponents to finish them off. Unless this female, whoever she was, really was that crazy…

_Or unless…_

As Tinder 1 struggled with his suspicions, Tinder 3 interrupted him. "Radar warning! Someone just ran a scan over us!"

"It must be the other Arwing." Tinder 5 called out. "Shoot! I thought we knocked it out of the fight. Is it locked on to us?"

"…Negative." Tinder 3 was puzzled. "It's locked on to…the other Arwing?"

Tinder 1 glanced up through his canopy and saw the damaged Arwing, seemingly hovering above the blitz. A red streak of light shot down from its nose.

He remembered the stunt it had pulled with that bomb at the beginning of the fight, and the last piece clicked home.

"Break! EVADE!" Tinder 1 screamed himself hoarse. His surviving wingmen did their best to break clear, but the red bomb was coming in faster than they could turn off their blisteringly hot course. The G forces ate up their evasion, and worse, the female Arwing pilot chose that exact moment to brake.

The explosion of red fire roasted his wingmen's fighters. The red paint bubbled and charred to black, and smoke poured out of their engines. Their shielding flickered uselessly, unable to handle the strain.

Tinder 3 and 5 began to plummet down, but Tinder 1's wingmen had the good sense to wait several seconds to clear the blast radius before ejecting.

Seething, Tinder 1 saw the badly damaged Arwing lift its nose up and head for the upper atmosphere. "No, you don't." He growled, and laid in a pursuit course. "You're not getting away."

A line of strafing blue laserfire cut him off and forced him to turn down and away. Screaming in frustration, Tinder 1 saw the other Arwing bearing down on him.

_"Uh-uh." _The female pilot said. The coy tone was gone from her voice, replaced with iron. _"My wingman's going to take the rest of the day off, and yours are…well, shot down. This is __**our**__ dance, Tinder 1."_

"So be it. Arwing pilot." Tinder 1 answered, just as coldly. He turned his nose towards her and increased his engine thrust. "No tricks left for you this time."

_"We'll see."_

Their radar warnings went off simultaneously.

* * *

_Venom Secondary Command Center_

The entire building shuddered as blast after blast rained down on its shields. The lieutenant could barely hear the defense command's reply, but he could make out a few words through the noise of destruction and panic. Chief among them were _unable_ and _five minutes._

"We'll all be **dead** by then, you idiot!" The lieutenant bellowed. "Blast it, where's our air support?"

The last thing he heard before another thunderous laserbolt disrupted the landline made his face pale. Every Primal inside the station looked at him, and saw in his ashen features their coming doom.

The lieutenant set the phone on the hook. "Our air support just got wiped out by the Arwings. We're on our own."

He looked to the operator overseeing their protective shield. The Primal bit his lip. "She's almost done for."

Nobody said anything after that. Several prayed.

* * *

Dana Tiger finally cleared the edge of the atmosphere, and hazy brown sky gave way to wispy blackness. The _Wild Fox_ hung above her, pointed at the ground below. Its turbolasers were firing powerful blasts down at the surface.

"Dana to Wild Fox. I've made it out of the battle zone. What's going on?"

_"Glad to see you made it up in one piece…relatively speaking." _General Grey answered. _"We're offering some support to Rourke and Milo's attack run. Their shields are starting to fluctuate, but it's going to take a smart bomb to crack that shell completely. Speaking of, that maneuver you pulled off with Terrany was something else."_

"It was crazy and stupid." Dana shook her head. "But it worked. I need to dock this thing before it falls apart on me."

_"Roger. Go ahead and land in the rear entrance. The catch systems are ready for you."_

Soaring on one engine, Dana coaxed her battered Arwing up and around the side of the strike cruiser. The Seraph rattled for a bit, and her ODAI displayed a fresh problem.

_**"Warning. Warning. Starboard thruster is losing plasma thrust containment. Auto-shutdown imminent."**_

"Oh, no you don't." Dana coaxed her jet. "Come on, baby. Just a little farther. Come on."

The rattling was sporadic, and the handling became somewhat dicey…as if flying on one engine hadn't been dicey enough.

The rear entrance of the _Wild Fox_ wasn't really all that different from its noble predecessor. Dana took a wide sweep around and lined herself up, then retracted her wings to launch position and gave the thrusters one gentle nudge. Burnout happened exactly four seconds into the push.

"Inertia's doing the driving now." Dana breathed. It was a tense wait as the _Wild Fox_ crept closer. She constantly watched every side of the massive ship. Had it moved? Was she going to crash into the side and miss the hole?

Her luck held out. The _Wild Fox_ maintained its position, and Dana's Arwing drifted silently into the landing bay, skimming through the shields.

A force field grabbed hold of her, and the Arwing began to coast forward again to the end of the tunnel.

_"That was touch and go for a bit, but a solid landing." _Wyatt's reassuring croak said to her. _"Welcome home, Dana."_

Dana sunk into her seat and shut her eyes. With no more tension or adrenaline, all that she had left was fatigue. She had plenty of that. "I hope you're doing the driving. My engines are dead."

_"Don't worry." _Wyatt reassured her. _"We'll bring you down."_

At the end of the landing bay, the floor under the Arwing opened up to show a tunnel going down at a diagonal. The force field chains guided her craft doing, keeping it level the entire time. _"We've brewed up some coffee down here. Care for a cup when you shut down?"_

"Make it tea. I want to sleep tonight." Her breathing softened and slowed.

In the silence of the noiseless drop corridor, Dana started on that wish early.

* * *

"Frigging Lylus, when that ship opens up, it _opens up._" Rourke whistled. The sight of the orbital bombardment down at the station was both awe inspiring and frightening. As they crept closer towards it, the shots grew larger and larger.

"They'd have trouble nailing a flight of fighters, but they can hit a damn building, that's for sure." Milo added. The raccoon strafed one of the last SAMs to dust. "Not much farther now. Dana make it up all right?"

"Sounds like she did." Rourke replied. He boosted his Arwing in front of Milo's and charged up another laserburst. "It's just Terrany and that lead Primal. I wouldn't worry."

Milo frowned, and ordered his ODAI to bring up a private channel to Rourke. "You sure about that?" He asked his flight lead. "Those Primals were good. Their leader has to be an ace in his own right."

"She can handle herself." Rourke said confidently. "She's got a natural talent for flying…especially when it's all on the line."

"How are you so sure?"

"I dueled her." Rourke reminded the raccoon. "I saw enough over Katina to tell me everything I needed to know." Rourke flipped his circuits back to the main team line and went on with his casual intensity. "_Wild Fox_, this is Rourke. That station's taking a pounding, but it's not dropping yet."

_"That's affirm. You're going to have to use a smart bomb to crack that shield completely. One more should finish the job."_

"Two smart bombs, huh?" Rourke angled his targeting reticle over the command center. "You ready, Milo?"

"You lead, I'll follow." The raccoon replied. The statement made Rourke smile and recall a fond memory, but he quickly pushed it aside.

The command center was coming up fast. Rourke narrowed his eyes, willing the red box at the end of his reticle to blip on target. It finally did with a small chirp. "Locked on. FIRING!"

His shields still healthy enough to manage a filtering of the blast, Rourke followed the slipstream of his screaming red projectile and flew through the upper half of the explosion. He glanced behind him, and saw the energy shield around the base flicker violently, then crack and fade away. "The shield's down, Milo! Take the shot!"

Milo stared through the suddenly darkened canopy and fired his smart bomb into the heart of the furnace. He smiled, and veered away from it. He didn't need to see its course to know his shot was right on target. The explosion, and the sight of masonry flying high off of his right wing, was just icing on the cake.

The two Arwings rose up into the sky, leaving the bombed out and flaming wreckage of the Venomian command center in their wake.

"Mission accomplished!" Milo sang out. "That base is history!"

_"Roger that. Good job, both of you." _General Grey actually sounded pleased for a change. _"I've got a request from Wyatt; on your way up, pick up the four lower Godsight Pods."_

"How are we supposed to do that?" Rourke brought up his radar. The Godsight Pods didn't show on his radar's return, but their positions were artificially marked on a digital layover from the mothership.

Wyatt cut onto the channel. _"It's real easy, even for you. I've given them a command to mesh with your G-Diffuser fields once you approach. They'll piggyback on your shields and come in for a landing. Nothing too obtrusive, but I __**really**__ don't want to replace these things. Just get within five meters and I'll do the rest."_

"Roger." Rourke shook his head, and turned for the closest unit. Twenty seconds later, nearly overrunning the probe, Rourke's anti-gravitational field scooped it up. The metallic object began lazily spinning around the rear of his plane, the happiest stowaway in existence.

"Now we're a damned taxi service. Unbelievable." Rourke picked up a second Godsight Pod and rejoined with Milo. Moving at maximum thrust, it didn't take them very long to clear the atmosphere and slip into the blackness of space. The _Wild Fox_ lay in sight, and Rourke thumbed his comm again. "Terrany, finish that guy up and book it out of there. We're gonna have company real soon!"

* * *

_Venomian Airspace_

"You are not without skill." Tinder 1 ceded grimly. He was chasing the Arwing, failing to get close enough to bring his cannon to bear. The first twenty five seconds of their fight, the Arwing had held a harrowing advantage. A practiced, but hasty midair brake had caused her to overshoot him, and then it was his radar that was causing constant alarms for her.

_"Yeah?"_ She grunted, still fiery and undeterred. Tinder 1 smiled at the embers burning in that proud voice. She would have made a wonderful Primal. _"It must kill you to admit that we're not going to curl up and die!"_

The two fighters were spiraling in a descending corkscrew, each trying to gain a bead on the other. Both stubbornly held on that course, because turning out of it would mean sacrificing the advantage to the other. They only paid marginal attention to the ground, which came closer every second.

Tinder 1 gauged his options. Pursuit was still the best. They were already moving so slow that he was threatening stall speed, and further braking would make him plummet like a stone. Not an option at 175 meters.

150.

125.

"You're running out of sky, Arwing." Tinder 1 goaded her. "I will run you into the ground, where you belong!"

She screamed at that and turned her nose up sharply into an inverted climb. The Arwing belched angry fire from its thrusters and shot up into the sky.

Tinder 1 stared, enchanted at the grace of the spacecraft. He nearly perished right there, and broke out of the dive only when his altitude alarm wailed its loudest.

"GRAH!" The edges of his vision went dark as he pushed his nose up and forced his thrusters to maximum. His Burnout's engines actually touched the ground, gouging out glassy craters before he leaped into the sky. The Arwing lingered like a tantalizing ornament against the gray and orange sky.

_"I think it's time I taught you a few lessons." _The Starfox pilot remarked.

"There are things we can…teach each other!" Tinder 1 snapped back. The Arwing was far above him, but with his thrusters at full, he was making up ground. His search radar offered good tone, and his HUD showed a lock-on. "You're flying MY skies, and I only accept one form of payment." He loosed his last Slammer, and the missile rocketed after the Arwing's jetstream.

It got within seventy meters of the Arwing, but failed to connect. Tinder 1 watched in horror as the spacecraft lurched upwards and looped around, pulling the sharpest U-Turn he could ever remember seeing. The ship was boring down on him, and a glow at its nose turned his senses on even higher alert.

_"Lesson one: My father died protecting these skies, so I'll be damned if I just hand them over without a fight!"_

Tinder 1's missile warning went off, and the bolt of energy on the Arwing rushed down at him. He swore and banked hard right…the pulsing green sphere followed him. "Blasted…what kind of…" Between the hard jinks that strained his body and his aircraft, his responses were limited. He realized too late that in dodging the still trailing laserbolt, he'd lost sight of the Arwing. Right as he forced the first to miss him, his alert system went off again, and a second laserbolt came at him from his portside. He could see the Arwing barreling in on him. He mashed his teeth together and dove hard.

The Arwing followed, hurling a steady stream of blue laserfire after him. He dodged and jinked through the miasma with an expert's touch, always managing to keep one eye set on the approaching homing blast. If that hit him…

_"Lesson two: There's probably a good reason that your kind hates Arwings so much. You're afraid of us, aren't you?"_

"I fear nothing!" Tinder 1 bellowed. He pulled out of his steep dive and reversed his direction, boring a path through her attack and answering with his own. Their shields flared angrily, blue lasers and red ones crisscrossing. Neither budged, and the strain of the constant fire increased. They broke away from each other at the last moment, narrowly avoiding collision. Only three meters separated the bellies of their ships when they passed, ending a run that had seemed like a return to the jousting of old. He checked his shields. Still 25 percent effective.

He whirled about. "Are you afraid of me, Arwing? Without missiles, without your homing laser…Do you have the strength of will and resolve to fight me with your guns alone?!"

The Arwing had spun around as well, and the two leveled off as they dashed towards one another. _"Lesson three: I never quit. Do you?"_

They opened fire on each other as they closed, and instead of passing, both spun up out of harm's way. Realizing that they'd copied the others' move, they began to turn about, spiraling up into the sky, corkscrewing around each other.

Their canopies were separated by ten meters, at the most. Tinder 1 glanced across the small space between them as the jets soared upwards, and got his first good look at his enemy.

The sight of her stunned him. A pale, white-furred female fox stared back at him. A _vixen_, by the Cornerian vernacular. She stared back, unimpressed by the fact that her own foe wore a helmet with a face-covering visor.

Somewhere in that span, Tinder 1 realized he needed to breathe, and he blinked. When he looked again, the Arwing had pulled out of the spin, and was diving down again.

Tinder 1 grinned inside of his helmet. _**I have you now!**_ He spun his jet around and dove down along her path. For the few seconds it took him to break out of the spin and turn about after her, he lost sight of the Arwing, fully expecting to see it loom in front of him in perfect firing position.

To his horror, when he started his dive, the Arwing wasn't where he'd predicted it would be. He swiveled his head about, and found it.

Above him, pulling out of a loop that had taken her out of sight…and given her the time to slip in behind him. He tried to bank left.

It did him no good. She led him perfectly, and rattled his airframe with dead on laserfire. His shields sputtered out, and the last shot she fired slammed hard into his wing. The metal warped out of shape, then peeled back. Wind shear tore his wing clean off.

Alarms going off across his gauge console, Tinder 1 struggled to right himself. It was a futile gesture, but one he fulfilled regardless. The Arwing would kill him. She would kill him. But he would go out fighting.

The last shots never came. His radio crackled to life again.

_"Your fighter's out of commission. You've lost, Primal."_

The Arwing pulled up beside him on his good side. The white vixen was staring at him.

His ship was failing, and slowly gliding to the ground below. Tinder 1 breathed in and out. "You spare me. Why?"

She stared at him, silent. Tinder 1 growled. "Who are you, pilot?"

_"Terrany McCloud of the Starfox team. And you are?"_

Tinder 1 lowered his head for a moment, then raised it up proudly and stared at her. He lifted his shaded visor, and looked at her through unshielded, seething brown eyes. "I am High Captain Telemos Fendhausen, of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance."

He saw her smile, and it only enraged him…shamed him…further. _"Today, you've met your better." _

Terrany McCloud spun away from him and soared up towards space above. She was done with him.

The master alarm on his Burnout wailed more insistently, and its slow drift increased as the nose fell. Telemos swallowed his shattered pride and reached for the ejection handle.

Several jarring moments later, Telemos slowly drifted to the ground under his parachute and watched his shot fighter plummet to a fiery death. His entire body shook, for he pictured the punishments that would await him when he and his squadron were recovered by their forces.

Demotion. Exile. Prison. The loss of flight status. Perhaps even death.

And all of that to blame on a woman.

On a Cornerian. He whispered her name, and let it burn on his tongue, into his heart.

"McCloud. _Terrany._"

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

"Incoming ships!" Hogsmeade called out. It wasn't just two or three that appeared on his scope, but _seven_ Primal battleships, nigh dreadnoughts, that jumped out of subspace. He gulped loudly. "Uh, sir?"

"The Wild Fox cannot withstand a direct assault from the current opposition." ROB intoned, picking up where Hogsmeade had nervously left off. "I would recommend a full retreat."

"Agreed." General Grey rumbled. He punched his talk switch, now set to open radio since the last Godsight Pod had been deactivated. "McCloud, I hope you're moving. There's company knocking, and we've got to haul out of here!"

_"Yeah, I can see why." _Terrany called back. _"I just had a little business to take care of first."_ Grey smiled at that. Clever girl, he thought. The Primals listening in would think she meant the duel with Tinder Squadron, and not the retrieval of the 5th Godsight Pod.

"All right, then." Grey said. "You park that ship. We'll hold these guys off long enough for you to do it, but hurry it up!"

_"Aye-aye, general."_

Grey looked around the Bridge. "You heard the lady. She's booking it. ROB, unleash Hell on them!"

"Affirmative." The robot chirped. "Targeting the ships' outer defenses. Firing all launchers."

The _Wild Fox_, even for its massive size, shuddered as a full dozen Lylus-class cruise missiles blazed out of its belly. The projectiles were halfway to their targets when a second dozen, along with deadly accurate blasts of the JT-300 turbolasers, soared out after them.

The Primal dreadnoughts responded with a hail of defensive laserfire and a wave of their own missiles.

Grey gnashed the end of his corncob pipe hard enough that it snapped in his mouth. He swore. "Going to have to buy a new one now…Updraft, hold her steady! We start bouncing this ship around, that crazy McCloud won't be able to park her ship!

The red-feathered avian craned his neck about to the captain's chair. "Well, we've got incoming shots that are tracking in on us. How else are we supposed to avoid them?"

"The jamming beam!" Sasha exploded. She rushed over to the ECM console and brought it up to full power again. "Hell, if it can freeze out radio communications, I'm betting it can screw with their radars!"

ROB proved he could do two things at once by nodding his head as he unleashed more death upon the dreadnoughts. "It should confuse their sensors."

"Get it done then, Sasha."

The soft-nosed bat smiled and flicked her large ears. "Yes, _sir!"_

* * *

_"Nothing like landing on a ship in the middle of a warzone." _KIT chipped in. Terrany had her teeth clenched in concentration, doing her best not to be frazzled with the rush of artillery laserfire that was smashing into the _Wild Fox._ The shots that missed passed along the sides, and came dangerously close to striking her. She was more worried for the Godsight Pod that rotated around the exterior of her G-Diffuser field.

"Yeah? You've done this before?"

_"Sector Z, on our run through Area 6." _Falco replied. _"We ran into some scouts, and it would've been fine until they started launching Copperheads at us. Pissed me off to no end, especially since we blew up Andross's munitions factory on Macbeth. Had to fly in for a fast shield repair in the middle of the skirmish."_

"Well, glad to know this is old hat." Terrany swore and threw the Arwing into a barrel roll, narrowly deflecting a laser that would have caused serious damage to her shields. "But in the meantime, you might think about…helping me out here…by keeping quiet!"

_"You can park this thing in your sleep, McCloud." _KIT said reassuringly. _"Nothing special here."_

She swung up behind the fantail, leveled out, and aimed the nose at the rear capture hatch. Just as KIT had predicted…All too easy.

Terrany let out a held breath as the force fields inside arrested the Arwing's movement. "Shutting down." She pulled the thrusters all the way back to off and ripped her helmet off. She ran a hand through her headfur, and finally felt the sweat from her flight. "I'm in. Get us out of here!"

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

The ship shuddered under the impact of a Primal missile that had made it through the sweeping and deleterious jamming beam. Grey stood up from his chair and glared at the viewscreen full of death. "You heard her. All ships are accounted for. We're bugging out!"

Corporal Updraft didn't need to be told twice. "Activating portal generator!"

* * *

The Primals were livid. To think that one Cornerian cruiser could penetrate their defenses so quickly, and strike at them with impunity. The Lord of Flames would flay them alive for this failure. At least the cruiser would perish, and with it, the hated Arwings of their precious Starfox team. They couldn't flee under FTL without being followed, after all. Whether they fought or ran, they would die.

Not a single Primal aboard the Halcyon class dreadnoughts could have anticipated the Cornerian cruiser's next move. A locus of blue light, a ring, appeared in the air in front of the ship. Every missile and laser that struck it vanished or exploded. They thought it was a barrier at first, outside of the strange gravitational readings…

But then the ship flew _into_ the blue barrier, and disappeared entirely. The barrier vanished soon after.

Too late, the Primals realized it had been a portal.

The Starfox team had escaped.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Hangar Bay_

Terrany's Seraph had been brought down through the drop corridor on a lift, then transferred to its parking space within the hangar bay. No sooner had she opened up her cockpit than the cheers flattened her against her seat.

Still shaky, she climbed down the ladder they rolled up beside her Seraph, and tried to gain her bearings. Amidst the whistles and clapping (And the slapping hands on her shoulders), Terrany made out her wingmen behind the crowd of mechanics and technicians in awe of the duel she'd fought. Dana sat in a chair, exhausted and gripping a mug of tea with what had to be the last of her strength. The frayed orange and black striped test pilot managed a weak smile and a nod. Milo, ever the stoic one of the team, scratched his white whiskered chin and repeated the smile.

It was Rourke that surprised her when she came up to them. One hand held out another cup of hot tea for her, and the other hand…was just outstretched. For a handshake.

"That was some pretty smooth flying there, McCloud."

"Glad you approve, lieutenant." She countered, shaking his hand. She didn't quite know how to take the unusually friendly gesture. "I imagine you'll find something in my flight recorder for me to work on."

Rourke shook his head. "Some people fly with their heads. You fly with your heart."

"Easy with the compliments, you'll make her head explode." Milo chided their flight lead. He settled for an affectionate rub on Terrany's head. "You did good."

"You saved my life." Dana clarified.

"You'd do the same for me." Terrany brushed off the praise. "We're the Starfox team now. And that means we look out for each other. No matter what."

The intercom came to life.

_"Starfox team, this is General Grey. We're orbiting Corneria again, and General Kagan wanted all of you to know…you did well today. We've regained control of our satellite network. Go ahead and get some sleep. Lylus only know what you'll have to do tomorrow."_

The praise was welcome, but the promise was sobering. The four members of the Starfox team shared a glance that said it all.

They'd protected Corneria, for the time being. They'd broken the Primals' stranglehold on their satellite network.

They still had an entire system to liberate.


	14. Search And Rescue

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SEARCH AND RESCUE

**Godsight Pods-** The latest in aerial reconnaissance, the Godsight Pod was developed in-house at the now destroyed Ursa Station. A GSP is a small, ice-cream cone shaped probe approximately 1.25 meters in length. Powered by a Cornite battery cell and kept aloft by a miniaturized G-Diffuser system, the bulk of the GSP is filled with cameras and other monitoring equipment that allow it to observe in a full 360 degree arc. Its silvery surface is coated with a radar-deflective composite paint that renders it nearly invisible to radar, and its size makes it difficult to see by the naked eye. Though not yet out of testing, early results and deployment show promise.

**(From Wyatt Toad's personal engineering schematics)**

"**Images transferred to Intelligence yesterday, should help…If GSPs can reroute IR communication signals…routed live feeds to ROB and the Bridge…Check wif Ulie an head tecks for feesibility. Need cof...."**

**

* * *

**

_Wild Fox_

_Hangar Bay_

_3 Days after the Battle for Corneria_

Two of Wyatt Toad's engineers stood a fair distance back from their 'boss', who lay slumped at the same tables he'd been working at for hours. A thin line of drool ran from his mouth and soaked a corner of the blueprints under his arm and slumped head.

The first engineer, a squirrel, shook his head. "You wake him up."

"Nuh uh. **You** wake him up." The second, a groundhog quickly disagreed. "I woke him up last time and the first thing he did was to slobber all over me. That guy drools like a fountain."

The two fell silent as they felt a massive, hairy paw grab them by the tops of their heads and hoist them into the air.

"I don't think either of you need to be bothering him right now." A low growly voice told them.

"Ulie!" The squirrel squeaked out. "Heh heh…hey, boss. No, we weren't gonna bother him, honest! But shouldn't he be sleeping in his room?"

Ulie twirled the two around in his heavy grip and gave them a toothy smile when they were looking at him. "Tell me, where does a bear sleep?"

"Uh…" The groundhog stammered. "Um, wherever it wants to?"

Ulie widened his grin. "Exactly." He set them down. "So scamper off already. Wyatt's busted his ass keeping things working around here, so if he wants to crash at his workstation, that's his prerogative."

The two nodded weakly, and then took off as though there were rockets under them. Ulie wiped his paws off on his trousers and sighed. "Damn kids." He looked back to Wyatt and his face softened.

The black-haired ursine removed his jacket and laid it across Wyatt's body for warmth. "Keep this up, boss, you'll run yourself ragged." He chastised the frog silently. What little criticism he offered to the passed out master engineer was deflected with his smile.

His eyes wandered down to the schematics under Wyatt's arms. He'd passed out scribbling some last minute notations. Ulie gently tugged the document out from underneath his weight and wiped the slobbery edge of it on his shirt.

The note scribbled in the margin made him blink. "Just what were you thinking here, boss?"

* * *

Rourke's dream had been moderately pleasant, but like most good dreams, hard to remember. The shreds of it were torn away from him when his communicator went off. He jerked his head up at the sound, on high alert after years of training, then relaxed when he realized nobody was shooting at him.

"Frnnn." He muttered, and reached for the device. The screen showed the call came from General Grey. "Don't believe in sleep, do you old man?" Rourke picked his comm up and opened the connection, rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah?"

_"I hate to…well, that's not true, I enjoy giving you grief, O'Donnell."_

"Screw you too, sir." Rourke lay on his back and took a deep breath, forcing his body to wake up. "Are we prepping for another sortie?"

_"Spot on guess there, Lieutenant. Get yourself warmed up and mobilized. I'll be expecting you in the mess in 15 minutes for breakfast and a briefing."_

The communicator clicked off, and Rourke dropped the device back on the bedstand. His quarters on the Wild Fox were slightly better than the room he'd had back on Ursa, but the bed especially was far more comfortable. It took him a great deal of will to force himself out of bed and towards the restroom for a shower. He discarded his shirt and shorts on the walk, and turned the spigot on full force.

Icy needles of water stung at his eyes and drenched his fur for a few seconds until the hot water caught up. Rourke slammed a fist into the wall of the shower and let out another ragged breath.

"It never ends." The wolf told himself, letting the finally lukewarm water drench him from snout to toe. They'd saved Corneria and blown up the station on Venom that had let the Primal Armada use their own communications network against them. In the process, Seraph Flight…

No, the Starfox team, he reminded himself. Whatever their name was, the unit of four whose command had been shoved onto him had taken more dings, lumps, and bruises than he'd thought possible. Terrany had been shot down on Corneria, Dana came back from the Venom sortie with her Seraph in critical condition, and even Rourke could recall how a damaged wing had allowed the Primals to track them when they were searching for the Wild Fox.

One squadron and one mothership. Angrily, he reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing at his fur. It wasn't enough. Their best hope would be if there were still some elements of the Cornerian SDF scattered around the system that could regroup for another push.

All their fighting against the Primals left him feeling that they couldn't count on any reinforcements anytime soon.

Far from the quiet, slightly antisocial pilot that most of the transferred Ursa Station crew saw him as, Rourke O'Donnell pressed his head against the wall of the shower and closed his eyes.

"It never ends."

* * *

_Wild Fox _

_Mess Hall_

The smell of fresh coffee and piping hot cinnamon buns made Rourke's stomach growl as he walked into the mess. Of course, Ursa Station's chef had made it his first priority upon arriving on the ship to make sure every possible foodstuff they might need was requisitioned…

And nobody made sticky buns like the jowly-faced bulldog named Pugsley "Pugs" Femmick.

"Tell me those have the vanilla icing on them." Rourke called out, scanning the mess until he spied the other members of Starfox and General Grey waiting for him at the far end of the mess. There were a few other members of the crew eating breakfast, but it was clear that the Starfox team was getting an early start.

Pugs came out of the swinging galley doors with a jug of milk in one hand and a platter of beefsteak sausage in the other. "You think I'd waste my lemon icing on a regular morning like this, Lieutenant?" The dog barked cheerfully. "Go head on over. You want some juice?"

"No, just coffee for now, Pugs. Thanks anyhow." Rourke headed for the table and took his seat between Milo and Dana. "How's everyone doing today?"

"Fine, considering." Dana answered. The tigress drummed her fingers on the edge of the table. "Unfortunately, my Arwing's still being repaired. It took a Hell of a beating."

"Better the plane than you." Terrany reassured the team's only other female. The albino vixen leaned on an elbow and smiled. "That's what my brother always said."

"Just remember, there are only four Seraph Arwings left in the Lylat System. Even with this ship's ability to synthesize parts, we can't lose them. Or you." General Grey chimed in. He set a portable holographic projector down in the middle of their table and activated it. A floating image of the Lylat System appeared above their heads. "That's why we're going to see about getting some reinforcements."

Rourke bit into a cinnamon bun and savored the taste, but like the others, his eyes and ears were now fully on General Grey.

The old warhound pushed his finger over Aquas. "I'd like to again commend you on taking down Venom's control center. With that station out of commission, we were able to re-establish contact with our forces over the system and develop a picture of the current tactical situation. As the public knows, Admiral Howlings and the 7th Fleet met with the first wave of the Primal invaders here, in the airspace above Aquas. After the fierce fighting, we lost contact with them, and we believed that all hands were lost."

The picture zoomed in, showing macabre images of debris and powerless hulks of both Cornerian and Primal ships floating in space.

General Grey's next sentence brought them all back to center stage. "It turns out there are survivors." He paused to let that sink in before continuing. "The latest IR transmission we received from General Kagan at the CSC passed along the news that we'd picked up faint reception from distress beacons from our Zoness-Aquas corridor satellite. We're not sure how many survivors there are, but we've been able to confirm that the Primal presence is nil in that sector." Grey harrumphed. "Apparently, the bastards had bigger fish to fry. But those are still our people floating on that waterworld or stuck in crippled ships above it, and the Cornerian Space Defense Forces do **not** leave their soldiers behind."

"So we fly in, launch from the Wild Fox, search for survivors, have transports pick up the survivors while we fly escort." Milo scratched at his chin. "Seems simple enough."

The General gave him a look. "You should know by now, Sergeant, that nothing is ever that simple. The Wild Fox has been ordered to remain on station here above Corneria. We've sent out the retreat and reformation order to the units still transmitting IFF codes around the system, but for the time being, Arspaces' last big secret hoorah is our best weapon. You'll be flying escort for four _Rondo_ class transport shuttles equipped for deep space rescue. Dana, since your fighter's still being repaired, you're going to pilot Shuttle 1."

"Understood, sir." The orange and black-striped tigress nodded.

"You sure that'll be enough?" Terrany asked suddenly. "Enough firepower, I mean. Won't the Primals anticipate a rescue?"

"There's a possibility of that, but with our satellite network up again, it seems as though their fleet is massing around Venom. We scared them with our little raid." Grey furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. "There's another detail about the Venom raid that Kagan wanted me to mention. We picked up some rather unusual readings from the GSPs while you were bouncing around in the atmosphere. Apparently, the Primals set up shop on the surface for more than just to commandeer our Secondary command post." He raised a hand before Rourke could speak. "General Kagan's got his best intel people looking into it. When they find out something definite, they'll let us know."

"All right." Rourke swallowed another bite of his sticky bun. "Anything else for the good of the cause, Arnold?"

General Grey's eyes widened incrementally, then narrowed to slits at the mention of his first name. He let it slide, more because it was too early in the morning to get into a tiff, and he needed Rourke in the air rather than the brig. "During the Cornerian Invasion, one of the Primal fighters was brought down relatively intact. The pilot died, but we were able to access his ship's database. Most of the combat data was wiped out, but we were able to learn the names for what we've gone up against so far. We've built a reference file of all the ships and ground units that it had a record of and put it into your computers."

"Well, that's something." Dana waved her hand in the air. "At least we'll know what's shooting at us."

General Grey harrumphed. "All right then. Finish your breakfast and report to the Hangar Bay in 30. If there are any survivors above or on Aquas, they've been on their own for three days. Good luck, Starfox."

Milo and Dana nodded a halfhearted thanks, but as the General turned off the holographic display and headed out to leave them to their meal, nobody spoke.

The thought of being stranded in space for three days inside a dead spacecraft was nearly enough to ruin anyone's appetite.

* * *

_Arspace Dynamics_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

Slippy felt alive. It had been years since that familiar sense of electricity had surged with him, but it was back, and burning through his aging muscles. The cane he'd used to hobble around on for years? Gone, left in his office, much to the annoyance of his personal secretary, Evelyn Cloudrunner. Especially since he wasn't in the climate controlled, nearly hermetically sealed environment of his offices.

With his grandson Wyatt still aboard the Wild Fox, high in orbit, Slippy Toad had returned to the portion of Arspace Dynamics where he'd always been most comfortable…

Down in the workshop storage bays, with a thick set of coveralls to trap what little residual heat he could. There were just some things, after all, where being a cold-blooded animal didn't help.

"Sir!" Evelyn came running after him. "Sir, you really shouldn't be out here!"

"Evelyn, unless you brought me my coffee, I don't want to hear it." Slippy didn't look up from the blueprint schematics laid out on the table in front of him.

"You should be drinking tea, not coffee!"

"Tea's for pussies!" One of the workcrew tomcats hollered, earning a crackle of laughter from those clustered around Slippy. Even the old wart chuckled at the fiery statement.

"Now, now. Watch your tone, Simkins, Mrs. Cloudrunner's a mother, and I doubt you'd talk to your own that way."

Simkins had the good sense to let his whiskers droop a bit before he nodded. "Right, chief."

"Chief." Slippy smiled. "Been a while since I heard that one. All right then." He tapped the image on the top blueprint; An Arwing. "All of you know by now that our newest Arwing's called the Seraph, and it's one crazy bird. So far, it's been holding its own out there, but the fact is, we built it for speed and maneuverability, not durability." He pulled the top blueprint off and revealed the next one down. "And this here is the brainchild of my grandson, who if he's anything like me when it comes to work, is probably passed out at his workstation. This is a G-Diffuser equipped, Cornite powered multispectrum camera pod. We call it the Godsight Pod, or GSP for short. The GSP is designed to operate covertly with a minimal radar imprint and collect data over a large area of battleground. My son just figured out a way to use the GSPs to help with communication as well, using infrared line of sight lasers. Until we figure out how to rescramble our frequencies, all radio traffic can be intercepted by the Primals."

"So, what's our objective, sir?" One of the older techs asked. Unlike many of the others, he could remember a time when Slippy spent as much time down in the workshop as he did in the boardroom. The old wart's presence made him smile. "Are we supposed to work on making a better radio with these GSPs?"

"No, not exactly." Slippy smiled. "What I want you all to get done is find me a way to put some of THESE…" He pointed at the GSP schematic, then pulled the Seraph blueprints back over. "…Onto this. I just got word that the Starfox Team's moving out for a search and rescue today, but without the Wild Fox running support. If this ever happens again, I want them to have these Godsight Pods regardless." Slippy set down three datapads. "These all have a recording of the GSPs in action on their flight over Venom. I'd suggest you start with the Diffusion Field interactions and go from there."

"Yes, SIR!"

* * *

_Wild Fox Hangar Bay_

Terrany grabbed her helmet off of the seat of her cockpit and jumped in. "You up, Kit?"

_"Have been for a while now. My downtime's a lot shorter than yours. Tried calling you once or twice."_

"Sorry, left my earpiece out when I hit the sack." Terrany perked her ears up and carefully slid her helmet on, aiming them through the two holes at the top. "Figured we could use a break. You didn't get too bored, did you?"

_"I'm still uplinked to the Wild Fox's network. No, I was able to stay busy. I heard your briefing."_

Terrany frowned and punched the button to close her canopy. "You were spying on us?"

_"There's a big difference between spying and just listening. It's a cafeteria, McCloud. Anyone could have overheard you. But I agree with the mission. If there's people out there, we need to get them back."_

"Glad to see we're still on the same wavelength." The canopy clicked home, and there was a faint hiss as the cockpit pressurized. Terrany reached up to the headset on the side of her helmet and activated it. "Terrany here. I'm beginning startup."

"Copy that." Rourke answered back. "I'm doing the same. Milo, what's your status?"

The veteran soldier on their squadron laughed a bit as he spoke. "A little farther along than you two. This should be second nature by now."

"Sorry if I'm a little preoccupied." Rourke countered. Terrany glanced over her folded in port wing and saw their CO frowning. "We're going into this one without the Wild Fox on support, and we won't have the GSPs."

"Meaning we'll have to use our radios, and the Primals could pick up our chatter." Milo finished summarizing. "We've fought like that before. We'll just have to be careful what we say."

"_IF there are Primals still lurking around." _Dana said. While the Arwings were still starting their systems up, the test pilot was orbiting adjacent to the Wild Fox in the lead _Rondo _Class transport. _"This is Rondo 1 here. We're ready to leave when you are."_

"Roger that." Rourke replied. The wolf shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them up again, filled with resolve. "Okay, team. Preflight checks done?"

"Good to go here." Milo said with a nod through his canopy.

_"This jet's as good as it's going to get, kid." _KIT told Terrany.

"Terrany here. Kit says we're ready to rock and roll."

"Good." Rourke toggled his comm from flight-only to broadwave. "Wild Fox, this is Rourke. We're ready for launch."

_**"Roger that, Starfox Team. SDF has given you clearance for launch. Good luck out there."**_

A green light came on inside the Hangar Bay, and a droning beep signaled to all the techs on call that ships were departing. The mechanics quickly got clear of them, and Terrany felt her Arwing shudder.

"Clamps are on." She said to KIT. "They'll lower us down soon."

Sure enough, with the locking clamps keeping the Arwing hovering on its platform, the lift lowered her Seraph, as well as Rourke's and Milo's, down into the Launch Bay corridor.

Running lights triggered on, flashing in sequence down the tunnel to show them the way out. It was large enough to accommodate a full flight of four if they were cautious. Three Arwings gave them more than enough room, with the wings in launch position.

"I have the lead." Rourke announced.

"You have the lead, roger." Milo's Arwing began to power up its plasma thrusters, collecting particulate matter from its own reserves and the air around it to build a suitable hydrogen mass. The brilliant glow of two blue exhaust ports illuminated the dark cavern, and were soon joined by four more.

The running lights flashed two sequences of red, one sequence of yellow, and then went solid green.

The locking clamps disengaged, and Rourke's Arwing shot down the tunnel, followed shortly after by Milo and Terrany, going side by side.

Out of the belly of the beast, the Starfox Team blasted into the void above Corneria and quickly fell into formation.

"Deploy wings." Rourke ordered. The three toggled their wing geometry from launch position to interceptor mode, giving them a forty-five degree backwards slant for a blend of speed and maneuverability. "Wild Fox, we are launched and forming up on the transports." More out of bravado than need, Rourke turned to starboard in a slow and precise roll, leveling out just above Rondo 1. Milo and Terrany fell in behind the pack, holding position 100 meters off the stern of Rondo 4.

_"Showoff."_ Dana chided him, still chuckling. _"When they finish repairing mine, I'll show you some moves!"_

"I'm counting on it, Tiger." The wolf seemed in good spirits when he answered.

_**"All right, Starfox. You have a go. Keep those transports safe!"**_

"Count on it." Terrany whispered.

"Synchronize your FTL drives with Starfox Lead." Rourke told the others. "I'll control the jump."

_"I've got it, kid." _KIT reassured Terrany, stopping her from reaching for the touchscreen diagnostic systems panel. Her HUD displayed **FTL interlink** not half a second later. _"I know this ship like the back of my ha…Well, anymore, this ship IS the back of my hand."_

"No regrets?" Terrany asked the digitized consciousness of Falco Lombardi. She sank back in the padded seat and watched as the stars shimmered, blurred, and disappeared when the jump started.

_"I'm still flying, kid." _KIT reassured her. _"I'm right where I need to be."_

_

* * *

_

_Aquas_

_Ocean Surface_

The ocean was calm, and the skies had stayed clear. That was the only true saving grace of the entire mess. Bobbing up and down in a powerless, mostly shredded spacecraft would have been unbearable if the surf was choppier.

The downside of it, Damer Ostwind realized when he came to with a snort, was that the gentle rocking of the ocean did a great job of lulling one to sleep. That was fine for the others, but…

"Son of a brick." The squirrel rubbed at the bridge of his nose and popped his canopy again. The engines on his ship would never fire again after the beating he'd taken, but there was enough fuel to power anything _not_ related to flying. A warm sea breeze slapped him full on in the face and brought him fully back to consciousness. "Three days of this." It was too easy to do nothing but sleep.

The other two surviving members of the 21st Squadron had also crash-landed onto the waves of Aquas after the second Primal wave had annihilated the 7th Fleet. There were a few…well, two now…other ships who'd somehow managed a landing after losing propulsion. One was the _Cougar_, a blockade runner, and the second was the _Carbine_, an attack cruiser only twice the size of their Arwings. The second wave had seemed content to wipe out the rest of the larger capital ships and leave the damaged remnants the prospect of a slow death.

It seemed that the Primals really did have a sense of humor.

10 meters off Damer's starboard wing, Captain Hound whistled at him. "You all right, Ostwind?"

"Just pissed at myself, sir."

His CO shook his head. "You've got other things to worry about. Got anything on your radio?"

Damer went through one of his deep breathing exercises and got his mind back on focus.

Argen was dead, but they couldn't change that. Most of the Fleet was gone. They couldn't change that. The Primals had probably wiped out the rest of the Lylat System. They couldn't change that either.

All he could change was his perspective…And the radio frequencies.

His hands danced over the radio tuner like a piano, searching the airwaves for anything different or unusual. There wasn't, of course. The _Dauntless's_ emergency beacon was still broadcasting, although the ship which had taken over command after the _Wardog_ fell with all hands on board had been silent for a day and a half now. Power had probably failed, and it was unlikely it still existed. Given the number of shooting stars they'd seen…burning wreckage crossing through the skies…A lot of the ships they knew had probably been eaten by the atmosphere through uncontrolled descents.

"Give me some good news, Ostwind." Captain Hound called over.

"If I had any, sir, I'd give it." Damer chattered bitterly. "All I can pick up is that distress beacon. Fat lot of good it does us. I thought we'd pick up more after the comms lost that static yesterday, but it's not looking like it changed anything."

"Joy." Wallaby Preen harrumphed, from the third corner of their rough circle. The marsupial folded his arms and looked out towards the _Carbine_. The cruiser's nose had dipped a little farther into the water. The Arwings, due mostly to their lightweight and geometric construction, held up on the surface better than most other spacecraft could. "Well, we gotta give these people some bit of good news. I mean, we're running out of emergency rations here. Hunger's one thing, but dehydration?"

Hound kept the ironic remark to himself. _Water, water, everywhere…_

The Captain cleared his throat. "Just keep scanning, Damer. Meantime, I'll contact the _Cougar_ and see what their status is." It was easier to keep doing things. Keep moving. Stay busy. It was just as important to Lars Hound as it was to his men. Argen's death hung heavy on him.

It made him hate the Primals all the more. And when they got out of here…Not if, but _when_…Well, the Primals would see just how big of a mistake they'd made in coming to Lylat.

The Captain pulled out his laser pistol and dialed down the intensity setting, changing it from a weapon to a glorified flashlight. He pointed it at the _Carbine_ and flashed a brief message in moose code. Ten seconds passed before another crewman aboard the small cruiser flashed a message back in return, dots and dashes by light that made up letters and words.

Captain Hound nodded and looked over to Wallaby. "You're right to be worried about dehydration. The _Carbine_ ran out of water yesterday. They're getting thirsty and desperate."

Wallaby looked down. "The lieutenant would've known what to say to them."

Captain Hound licked the end of his nose. "Yeah. He always did. He made a good wingman, Preen. We paid the Primals back for killing him. All we gotta do now is get out of here alive ourselves. Argen would never forgive me if I let the rest of you down."

Inside his open cockpit, Damer Ostwind's beady little eyes shot wide open, and he chittered a shushing noise at the other two. "Quiet! I'm getting something now!" His paws worked furiously at the controls, boosting the receiver, narrowing the band.

He heard the most beautiful sound when the crackling disappeared for a solid SDF broadwave channel. A woman's voice, clear and steady.

_**"This is Rondo 1 of the SDF in orbit above Aquas. We're scanning for any survivors. I repeat, is there anyone still alive around here?"**_

"Son of a gun, they came for us!" Damer cheered. He slapped his paw on the top of his dash and whooped.

"Well, call them back already!" Captain Hound barked. The remnants of the 21st Arwing Squadron were now wide awake.

Damer toggled his headset. "Rondo 1, we're reading you loud and clear! This is Damer Ostwind of the 21st Arwing Squadron. We're currently floating in the water down here. Be advised, there's two other ships that crashed down here with us. I hope you brought more than one rescue ship."

The female on the other end laughed at that. _**"That's affirmative. We're homing in on your signal. Keep broadcasting for us, will you? We're sending a Transport and an escort to the surface."**_

"Will do!" Damer kept the channel open and muted his headset. "Hot damn! We've got help on the way, sir!"

Captain Hound's eyes finally regained some warmth, and he nodded. "Suppose I'd better let the other ships know then." He raised up his modified blaster and beamed another coded message across the sea.

* * *

_Aquas Airspace_

_"Guys, I'm sending Rondo 3 and 4 to the surface." _It was strange to hear Dana's voice coming from the bulky cargo transport ship, but it was as strong as ever. _"Who's running escort for them?"_

"I'll handle it." Rourke said quickly. He broke formation and dipped down towards the atmosphere. Rondo 3 and 4 slipped in behind him at a slower pace. "Milo, stay up here with Terrany and search the debris field. The distress beacon was in orbit, after all."

"You got it, boss." Milo seemed back to his genial self. "You probably just want to have first crack at their gratitude."

"Damn, he figured me out." Rourke countered. "Just keep scanning the debris field. If there's even a hint of a biosign, follow up on it."

* * *

There were no Primals left alive in the void around Aquas, a fact which their initial scans pointed out.

It didn't mean that their presence wasn't still left there.

A silent guardian, a massive metallic sphere hiding in the debris, had been floating and listening for any signs of life. The radio transmissions from the search and rescue team, as well as the ships down on the planet below, indicated exactly that.

The sphere opened into a multi-armed flower of death, with laser turrets bristling along its edges. A set of smaller spheres which had been kept inside of it were released outwards, then extended their own arms as well.

The large one moved deeper into the field and powered up its equipment.

The small ones activated their thrusters and soared for the planet below.

* * *

"Holy!" Milo blinked at his radar display, then rubbed at his eyes. "Hey guys, I've got movement! Lots of it!"

"Are you sure?" Terrany called back. She soared over his portside wing and blasted a section of armor plating that had been floating too close for comfort. "This place is a mess, my radar's useless."

"Pretty damn sure." Milo said. He routed the radar up to an overlay on his HUD to confirm it. "I'd swear on my life that something's moving out there. But the signature doesn't match any Cornerian ships I know about."

_"You think we've got Primals flying around here?"_ Dana uttered incredulously.

Before anyone else could speak, she got her answer in the form of a host of metallic ships, shaped like outstretched claws, careening by her Rondo transport. _"Gah! What in the Creator's name are those?"_

"Trouble!" Terrany said, swearing soon after. She hit her afterburners and tore after them. Their flight path left no mistake as to their destination or purpose. "Rourke, keep your head up. I think the Primals left some presents behind, and they're headed for Aquas!"

"I've got a reading on them." Milo cut in. "I'm not picking up any life support. They're automated drones, but they're packing enough firepower to take on the Rondos with ease." His comm line chirped out, then chirped back in. "Dana, go evasive! A second group's closing in on you at ten o'clock high!"

In the pilot's seat of the lumbering transport, Dana's eyes went wide as she registered a horde of similarly shaped drones cutting in on her exactly where Milo said they were. _"Oh, no. Hang on!"_

She pushed the transport into a dive, hating how slowly it responded. The wicked looking objects screamed past the cockpit windows, and a terrible scraping sound shuddered through the hull. _"Damn! I'm hit, I'm hit!"_

The strange swarm kept going, and while they'd only grazed Rondo 1, the ship following behind Dana's transport wasn't so lucky.

_"They've locked on! Oh, Lylus! Help us, get these things off, they're cutting open th…"_

A horrified Milo and Terrany could only watch as the swarm of probes latched themselves onto the unlucky rescue transport with their stretched claws and unleashed high intensity cutting lasers against the hull. It took only a few seconds of battering, enough for the pilot to utter his frantic distress call, before they cut through.

Blasts of vapor exploded out from within, taking frozen sprays of bone, blood, fur and skin out with them.

"Oh, god." Terrany's stomach lurched at the sight.

"Explosive decompression." Milo explained gravely. "The things they don't tell you during flight academy training. Terrany, blast that ship apart."

"You...what?" Terrany stammered. She stared at the disabled and now depressurized Rondo transport, still crawling with the metallic probes.

Milo didn't bother wasting his breath on a repeat of the order. He swiveled the nose of his ship around with a blast of his ventral maneuvering thrusters and skewered the transport with laserfire. Destabilized, the ship's power core exploded, and turned the transport, and the Primal attack probes, into debris and dust.

"Milo!"

"They were dead already." Milo barked back. "First rule, Terrany; you protect the living. The next time you see one of those things and you hesitate like that, someone else is going to die that didn't need to."

_"Uhh…Milo? You might be right sooner than you thought!"_ Dana said worriedly. As her ship spun around, Milo and Terrany saw that one of the probes had done more than scrape by her: It had attached itself to her belly.

"Oh, Creator." Terrany breathed.

* * *

"Get to the surface!" Rourke snarled over the open channel. "Move it!"

Rondos 3 and 4 were just coming out of re-entry, and their shields had taken the brunt of the atmospheric scorching. Blackout, as much a problem as it ever was, had kept Rourke in the dark as to what was going on above until he'd blown through the ionized atmosphere and the static gave way to a panicked SOS from orbit.

_"Roger that, sir. We're pushing the thrusters, just keep those things off of our backs!"_

Rourke replied with a double click of his mike and spun around. The G's rattled the ship even in the thin upper atmosphere, and his claws reflexively popped out when he tightened his grip on the stick. "You can do this, baby." He coaxed the Arwing. Through a combination of the G-Diffuser field and thrust vectoring, he managed to turn himself around and nose to the sky above.

**"Of course I can. What do you think I'm made of, tinfoil?" **His ODAI snipped.

"Shut up, ODAI." Rourke squinted up through his darkening canopy. The photoreceptive cells had triggered, but the enhanced HUD displayed the incoming bogeys with squares around them. A close-up that his forward nose cameras provided showed them as opened spheres with wicked claws and a nasty looking cannon at its heart.

"Tell me you know what those things are." Rourke grumbled. He was already charging up a homing laserburst, but the craft were still out of range.

**"You told me to shut up, remember?"** His ODAI snipped. When Rourke didn't say anything, the ship's construct went on sullenly. **"Right, right. According to the data we pulled from the Primals' stolen database, those things are called Crackerballs."**

"You can't be serious."

**"Hey, the translation's spotty at best." **ODAI said defensively. **"You don't like the name, pick something else."**

"Call them Grapplers." A red targeting reticule appeared on his HUD, and the radar ticked down the distance between him and the swarm. "Can I take them?"

**"Armor's nothing too impressive, and the armament's minimal until they grab on to you. But they are fast, and…"**

"Let me guess." Rourke cut the AI off. "Strength in numbers?"

**"You got it, boss."**

Rourke narrowed his eyes. The targeting reticule finally beeped at him, and he tapped the trigger, releasing the emerald laserburst. It soared towards the pack, following the relentless course of his targeting beam, but the automated attack drones reacted quickly. A few seconds before impact, the pack broke apart in all directions, leaving the Grappler who'd been at the center to suffer disintegration alone. The survivors curled in on themselves after one last boost from their thrusters, and plummeted past Rourke.

"Blast these Grapplers…" Rourke snarled. He braced himself and shoved the Arwing into another high-G turn, relying on the G-Diffusers to keep him and his aircraft from rattling apart. "They've made themselves smaller targets!"

**"More than that, boss." **His ODAI added. **"They've increased to ballistic velocity. They're on a direct course for the ships down on the surface."**

Rourke smashed his teeth together at the news, and pushed the touch-sensitive throttle bar up as far as it could go. He kept his fingers at the top edge, and the plasma thrusters at the back of his Arwing screamed. "Be ready to override some safeties!"

The G-Diffuser fluctuated against the added strain of a full on booster enhanced dive, rattling the Arwing.

**"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."** Rourke's ODAI complained. **"And me with it."**

"Not today." Rourke vowed, putting his other hand on the control stick to keep the ship steady.

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

General Winthrop Kagan had risen to prominence because of his efficiency, his poise, and his ability to coordinate various intelligence assets. It had surprised nobody when he surpassed the crusty old hound he called his mentor, though it did catch several figures off guard when he was given a third star and put in charge of the CSC.

That decision was turning out to be a valid one, considering events. Few people could have handled the trauma of the war against the Primals…or wanted to. Most people didn't look at the board and see five moves deep, either.

The chime to the lynx's office door went off, and Kagan's eyes flickered briefly away from the holographic display of the Lylat System he'd been staring at for the past three minutes.

"Enter."

One of the top intelligence analysts he had on site wandered in, letting in a stream of light from the complex into the darkened interior. The mixed breed feline, Commander Dackwood Pellerton, was more than a little nervous. His tail twitched behind him as he wandered in. "We finished our indepth analysis of the footage that the Starfox Team's GSPs brought back from Venom, sir." He held out a datapad, already attached to a fiberline transfer cable.

Kagan shut down the map of Lylat and plugged the device in. "Go ahead and shut the door, Dack. You feeling all right?"

"I've been better, sir." Commander Pellerton said honestly. "Your spot assessment was dead on when you gave the footage a once-over. The Primals were doing more than setting up a beachhead on Venom. They were digging for something."

Kagan furrowed his eyebrows. There wasn't much they knew about the Primals, but they were discovering more by the day. All of that information funneled back into the CSC, the brain for what was left of the Space Defense Forces. He could make some guesses.

The general stood up from his chair and activated the holographic display again. The projector on his desk brought up the footage, rendered in a grainy three dimensional image.

Caught by pure luck on one Godsight Pods' sweeping pass of the far horizon from its high altitude position, he stared at a massive campground in the Venomian wastes. It had sprung up around a burgeoning hole in the ground, but underneath the soil and rocks, something dark and ominous dwarfed everything around it.

Kagan found himself blinking in horror when the image zoomed in, cleaned up and filtered to the best possible resolution the computers at the CSC could give it. He recognized the shape, though it had taken him a few seconds to. The last time anybody had seen a ship like that…

Kagan swallowed, not wanting to waste words on incredulous, unnecessary statements. "How large did you and your team estimate this thing was?"

"It makes the one from the historical record look like a midget." Pellerton shook his head. "Based on comparison from the surrounding objects and workers…We estimate that it's five kilometers in diameter."

General Kagan froze the display and stared at the object as long as he could, then shut his eyes and turned away. "Thanks, Dack. Tell your boys they did some good work today."

"Yes, sir." The feline started to turn, but felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He froze, waiting on instinct. They proved right.

"And Dack?"

Under different circumstances, Commander Pellerton would have smiled. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm giving an intelligence briefing to the Forces Chiefs and General Grey in two hours. I'm going to want you there for it. This, they need to hear about."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

Wyatt Toad snorted himself awake when the pungent smell of coffee and cream hit his nostrils. "Whuh?"

He jerked himself up away from his desk, hissing loudly as he drew in a large breath of air. "What's going on?" When Wyatt opened his eyes, he saw ROB standing next to him, the glowing red visor on his head scanning left and right. A mug of the precious nectar was in his hand.

"I have brought coffee for you, Wyatt. My sensors indicate that you require caffeine."

"I don't require caffeine, I live on the stuff." Wyatt grumbled. He took the offered cup and downed half of it. "Thanks for not burning my mouth off."

"Given your penchant for drinking it quickly, I considered it was better to serve it warm, rather than hot."

"Dead on." Wyatt finished off the cup and slammed it down. "What are we doing?"

"The ship, you mean?" ROB asked. Wyatt nodded, and he elaborated. "The _Wild Fox_ is on station above Corneria. The Starfox Team has been sent on a search and rescue mission to Aquas."

"The boys upstairs must think that there'll be a chance of survivors." Wyatt croaked. He reached for his oversized billed cap and secured it on his head. "The 7th Fleet took quite a beating, though, so they may be looking for shadows."

"Perhaps." ROB said. "Also, Master Slippy called earlier. He wanted me to tell you that he has a team working on converting the Godsight Pods for use on the Seraph Arwings."

"They are?" Wyatt switched to full awareness. "Did he say how exactly?"

ROB raised and dropped his shoulders in a very mechanical fashion. "Just that they were trying to find a way to carry the GSPs without requiring a secondary launch."

"Well, that's the trick, all right." Wyatt got up from his desk. "Once they're active, you can spin them around an Arwing using the G-Diffuser field to keep them locked in. If they can figure out how to carry them…well, that makes my job easier."

ROB followed after Wyatt as the engineer moved out to the Hangar Bay proper. "What job? Did you have a different idea in mind for the Godsight Pods?"

"Yeah, an idea." Wyatt smiled. "But I'm not going to start anything new…or get a jump on the repairs we've got ahead of us today…before I get some grub."

"I don't even get a hint?" ROB prodded, showing a trace of sarcasm inside of his artificial consciousness.

Wyatt expanded the pouch at his throat. "If my idea works out for the GSPs, we may have to change their name."

* * *

The "Grappler" attached to the belly of Rondo 1 reared its body back, aiming the laser at its heart.

_"It's powering up weapons!" _Dana screamed. _"Shoot it off!"_

"If I miss, I'll blow you apart!" Terrany's hand shook on the control stick.

"Relax, I've got this." Milo cut into their frantic back and forth with a supernatural calm. His Arwing maneuvered into position with two short bursts of maneuvering thrusters. The Grappler got off a second's worth of cutting laser before the nose cannon on Milo's ship lanced a single green beam into the outer shell. The weak armor gave way, and the crumpled remains fell away from the ship.

Milo's Arwing boosted up and swept above the transport. "Got him. What's your status, Rondo 1?"

_"Alive." _Dana answered shakily. _"He only nicked us. Shields are intact. Any more of those things?"_

"Negative." Terrany slumped back in her seat, exhaling to release the tension. "The rest all went planetside."

"…Terrany, you need to pay closer attention to your scanners." Milo chastised the young vixen. "A very large blip's just shown up at the edge of our scopes."

Terrany brought her radar up to the canopy's overlaid HUD and blinked. As Milo had said, a new unidentified craft was closing in.

It was also very big.

"Son of a…Milo, how did you pick it out so quickly?"

"I keep my eyes and ears open, and my mouth shut." The raccoon snorted. "Dana, can you pick up any life signs here in the debris?"

_"Hang on, I'll check."_ There was silence over the airwaves for a very tense moment, and Terrany felt her claws extending and retracting against the polymer grip of the yoke. _"The field's empty, but…I'm getting some sporadic biometrics from that inbound."_

"Primal?" Milo asked. Both he and Terrany executed U-Turns, Milo high and Terrany low, to point themselves back at the inbound.

_"Hard to say. I'm picking up a lot of interference. I think that craft is generating enough electromagnetism that it's throwing off my readings."_

"Well, why in the Hell would a Primal ship want to turn itself into a big magnet?" Terrany demanded irritably.

The bogey finally came close enough that they could make it out. Rather, they made out what surrounded it.

Bits and pieces of Cornerian and Primal spacecraft had been drawn against it. Jagged sections of metal, bristling with weapons and subsystems, gave it the appearance of a giant ball of garbage. Dangerous garbage.

_"One of these days, McCloud, you're going to learn to stop asking stupid questions like that." _KIT observed. _"Every time you do, you dare the powers that be to make something horrible happen in response."_

The behemoth, easily ten times the size of the Rondo that Dana was flying, soared in closer. It smashed through remnants of ships, drawing them in and attaching them through the attractive force it was generating. Dead scraps of the 7th Fleet flickered and came to life, grafted to a new, beating heart.

Terrany's mouth went dry, even as adrenaline went to work, fueling her rage at the monstrosity.

"This…is not going to be fun." Milo stated.

Heart pounding in her chest, Terrany found herself thinking the opposite.

* * *

The air screamed around Rourke's Arwing, but the gap separating him from the dive-bombing Grapplers was thinning only marginally.

"Are we in firing range yet?" Rourke snarled.

**"Not quite, boss." **

"Ffff…" Rourke cut his invective off. "Open a channel!"

His HUD flashed a brief confirmation and chimed the clear signal. Rourke wasted no time. "All ships, all ships on the surface! There are inbound Primal attack drones dive bombing for your position. They're moving at ballistic speed, and I probably won't be able to stop them all!"

_"Say again?" _The voice that had identified itself as Damer Ostwind of the 21st Squadron cut onto the channel. _"We're helpless here! None of our ships are in fighting shape!"_

"Tell me something I don't know." Rourke said under his breath. He spoke up again. "If you can bail out, I'd suggest you do it. When these Grapplers hit, your ships are going to be dust!"

* * *

Below on the surface, the three surviving members of the 21st Squadron craned their necks skyward, searching the blue above for the flaming trails of ships plummeting towards them.

"Sir, we'll be dead if those things hit us!" Damer chattered.

"And they probably will, if we let them." Captain Hound bared his teeth. He spied the inbound flares of light. "Damer, your ship's flightless now, right?"

"Affirm, sir."

"Wallaby?" Lars Hound turned to the team's rookie.

The marsupial glanced at his displays. "I couldn't take on a Primal Armada, but my systems still have enough juice for one more good run."

"Power up and take off for intercept." Captain Hound ordered. He looked back to Damer and tossed his laser pistol in a lazy arc. "I'll be on your six."

Damer caught the dialed down device, confused. "Sir, your ship's shield generators barely have the power to protect you from normal flight! If those things open up and hit you…"

"Then I'll just have to make sure that they don't." Captain Hound said, cutting him off. He punched a button and brought his Model K Arwing back to life. The canopy started to close, and he threw Damer a salute. "Get the evacuation order to the _Carbine_ and the _Cougar_, and then get clear of your ship. Is that clear, Damer?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The canopy snapped down on Captain Hound's Arwing, a subdued gesture as Wallaby Preen's Arwing, the most combat capable of the squadron, rose up on its maneuvering thrusters. The main engines came to life, and the blue G-Diffuser pods cracked open to show the hyper laser cannons waiting inside.

In a burst of blue atomic fire, Preen's Arwing shot ahead and veered up towards the inbound attackers.

"Godspeed, captain." Damer whispered. Not waiting for a response, he turned the laser pistol towards the two sinking cruisers and flashed the optical message.

**B A I L O U T** **– N O W**

The roar of the captain's Arwing rattled his ship as he tucked the borrowed laser pistol into his flight suit. What was left of his survival equipment in hand, Damer jumped out of his Arwing and into the waters of Aquas.

* * *

The behemoth of the debris field loomed in closer, a half-opened sphere with a patchwork outer shell of harvested ships, armor, and guns. Dana wisely turned Rondo 1 on a retreat course away from it, leaving Terrany and Milo to confront the beast together.

"Milo, does this thing have a name in the Primal database?" Terrany asked.

"Hang on, I'm checking…" The raccoon's transmission paused, then picked back up again. "Looks like this puppy is called The Harvester."

"Anything useful in the specs?"

"Nothing." Milo grumbled. "Looks like they kept this thing's abilities off the public record. They just wanted their flyers knowing what they looked like. I'll see what I can dredge up about it the old fashioned way, but you've got to keep it busy."

"No problem!" Terrany lost out on not breaking into a grin, and she boosted towards the Harvester, eager for the confrontation. With the comm line silent again, she was left alone with only KIT as a secondary voice. "Let's light it up, Kit!"

_"Hey, just be careful!" _The AI of her fighter called out nervously. _"The sensors are picking up tremendous electromagnetic distortions around that thing. If we get too close, it might try to pull us in!"_

"I'm not giving it the chance." Terrany thumbed her weapons release, dumb-firing a smart bomb at the thing's core. The high-powered Cornite explosive raced out in a trail of red light, but The Harvester, anticipating the move quickly retracted its arms. When the bomb hit and exploded in a shockwave of blue and white fire, it claimed only an outer layer of armor and a few dozen laser turrets, melting them to slag. "Shoot! That thing's packing one Hell of a shell!"

_"Terrany, stop firing!" _Dana's voice cut over the channel in a panic. _"Those life sign readings I was getting…they're not Primal! That thing's got our people in it!" _

"WHAT?" Terrany's eyes shot open, and she veered away from The Harvester. In response to her opening gambit, the sphere unleashed a volley of laserfire after her. Several shots slashed at her deflector shields before she was able to barrel roll out of the vector. "How in the Hell does the Harvester have our people in it?"

"No. Not in it." Milo interrupted. His next sentence came with chilling poise. _"On it."_

Realization hit Terrany like a brick to the head. "Oh Lylus. The debris field…There were survivors in the sections of ships it tacked on to itself."

"It's a cheap tactic, but it works." Milo groused. "We can't shoot at the thing blindly without risking the deaths of the very soldiers we came out here to save. If the Primals weren't trying to wipe us out of existence, I'd have a lot of respect for them. They're real magnificent bastards."

"So tell me where I _**can**_ shoot it, then!" Terrany exploded.

"I'm on it." Milo swung his Arwing to starboard and veered off from the Harvester. "Keep it busy while I try and eyeball some targets on this thing!"

Terrany rolled her eyes and swung back around on the ship. "Unbelievable. Keep it busy? You mean, get shot at and hope you come up with something."

_"You know, I just realized something?" _KIT chirped up. His digitized chuckle reverberated in the cockpit. _"Fox had it easy. Everything he needed to shoot at glowed."_

"Everything?" Terrany scoffed. She rolled to the side, relying on the supercharged deflector field created to reflect another salvo away from her. The laser shots rattled off with an eerie _pinnnng_ as she did.

_"Well, the big stuff, at least."_

They came up closer on the Harvester, and the ship began to shake uncontrollably. "What the heck!" Terrany gripped the stick. "I'm losing control here!"

Milo responded to the distress call. "McCloud, that thing's generating a massive electromagnetic field to pull parts in. If you get too close, it'll drag you with it!"

"I thought that the G-Diffusers stopped that!"

_"The G-Diffusers cancel out gravitational pull. They can't do a damn thing about magnetic attraction." _Dana clarified.

"We can't shoot at it, we can't get close to it…What are we supposed to do, wish it away?" Terrany shoved the throttle bar forward and finally managed to break free of the Harvester's grip. Her Arwing shuddered out of the thing's pull and spun wildly. She brought the fighter back under control and looped around, careful not to fly as close as before. "That magnetic field is going to be a problem. Can't we disable it?"

"I'm working on it." Milo said testily. "Give me some time here."

_"If you don't hurry it up, Milo, those people we need to rescue that are currently attached to that thing's body are going to be dead." _Dana pointed out. _"And us along with them."_

"Oh, more pressure. Just what I needed." The raccoon grumbled. "Yes, _that_ will make me work even FASTER, I'm sure."

The Harvester used its borrowed weapons array and blasted Terrany with another hail of laserfire. Terrany rode out the barrage and watched her shield strength diminish several precious ticks. "Miloooooo!"

"All right, all right!" The raccoon boosted in towards her with a roll, interceding between her ship and the firing line. The momentary reprieve allowed the last McCloud to boost clear.

Milo's face appeared in the corner of Terrany's cockpit HUD, tense, but focused. "That thing's magnetic field generators have to be inside of it. The largest energy readings are coming from the interior of that shell."

"So what do I shoot at?"

Milo hesitated. "If my guess is right, Terrany…We have to shoot off the scraps from its exterior before we can get inside of it."

"Why can't we just shoot the sphere and knock it out of commission?" Terrany demanded.

Looping around the thing's backside, she had a perfect view of Milo swooping down on it. With perfect aim, he lanced a pair of laserbolts into a gap between the harvested hulks.

The shot reflected off, not quite touching the surface.

"Like I thought." Milo sighed. "Polarized. That explains the strength of the field."

_"This could be trouble." _KIT murmured.

* * *

**"You're in range, boss!"** Rourke's ODAI exclaimed.

"Firing!" Rourke wasted no time in releasing a laserburst down at the pack again. Falling as they were, the Grapplers weren't able to maneuver and evade the blast like they had before. A good chunk of the solid missiles was washed away in the explosion, and Rourke flew through the red light of the explosion without a murmur of protest from his shields. He emerged on the other side unharmed, and tracked five more Grapplers still going. They'd sped up in response to the attack, and out of weapons range.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Rourke shouted.

**"Not in the atmosphere, it can't. In space, that's another story." **

"Oh, that's just perfect." Rourke fought off the sickening feeling in his stomach. "I just hope the people below listened to the warning, then. This is gonna be one messy explosion."

A seasoned voice crackled to life. _"Attention, inbound Arwing. Looks like you could use some help up there. The 21__st__ Squadron will provide the assist."_

As the radio crackled the good news, Rourke's radar beeped as two Model K Arwings, soaring up from the surface, came into view.

"I'll take any help that's cheerfully offered." Rourke breathed. "Those things are flying faster than I can compensate for. Can you nail them?"

_"You can bet your ass we'll try!" _A younger, more excitable fellow announced.

The two older Arwings launched a pair of dumb-fired laserbursts upwards, then seared the air with hyper laserfire. The laserbursts exploded behind the craft, but a lucky shot disintegrated one of the five dropping Grapplers. The others reacted to the new threat and flared their arms out, using the drag to airbrake.

"Heads up, people." Rourke called out, watching the sight from behind the Grapplers. He was catching up to them, now that they'd decreased speed. "They've slowed down. They might be trying something else!"

Rourke's guess was dead on the money, as the automated Grappler drones swerved away from the ships on the surface and narrowed themselves in closer to one another. Very close.

In seconds, as Rourke and the other two Arwings tried to catch up to them, the Grapplers connected together and fused into a much more menacing single craft, spinning around with interlocked arms like a falling snowflake.

"ODAI, got any idea what the Hell they're doing now?" Rourke asked his AI quietly.

**"Oh, I've got a pretty good idea. This configuration's in the registry, too." **The AI replied. **"You won't like it. This thing's called a Death Blossom."**

**

* * *

**

_CSC_

_Secure Conference Room 1_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

Tinted one way windows, sound-cancelling walls, and high frequency microwave disruptors made it impossible for anyone to listen in on conversations. The rank and file of Corneria's military leadership sat around a large circular table, with a non-networked holographic display and computer console sitting at the hollow center on a small podium. The effect gave the table the appearance of a bullseye.

The Forces Chiefs of the Army, Special Forces, and the SDF were all old animals, career servicemen. They represented the highest echelon of control of the armed forces, lived a life of privilege, had every courtesy extended to them. Of course, their current situation left all three rather irritated and bewildered.

None of them were used to waiting.

The old-styled doorknob equipped door swung in, and the three glanced up. General Kagan, a finely groomed lynx, wandered inside with his electronic report tucked in under his arm. The Special Forces Chief, the brown tomcat Major General Sanderson, scowled when two more figures sauntered in behind the three star. General Grey, a one star who'd only risen to prominence in the wake of Project Seraphim's declassification, took one last puff from his corncob pipe before knocking the ashes into an empty metal wastebasket beside the door. The other was a more nervous looking tom, carrying a manila folder.

"Gentlemen." General Kagan nodded respectfully. "Go ahead and take your seats."

"Excuse me, Winthrop, but what in blazes is **he** doing here?" General Sanderson snapped, pointing a finger at the hound trailing in last. General Grey chewed on the end of his pipe, but said nothing. The venom in his returned gaze said enough.

Kagan headed off the ambush between the two with calm poise. "General Grey, and the men and women under his command, are a vital part of our defense and today's meeting. I've deemed it necessary for purposes of security to include him on the proceedings."

"Relax, Al." Supreme Admiral Weyland slapped the warrior on the back. "He's in my jurisdiction, not yours. Considering the shit-kicking that Starfox has been giving the Primals, I think he's welcome here."

"Oh, sure." General Sanderson grumbled. "A man in charge of a mercenary unit. Yes, he belongs in a top tier security meeting, certainly."

"Shove it, Sanderson." Grey muttered loudly.

Sanderson snapped up to his feet. "You want to be shot for insubordination?"

"Depends." Grey winked at him. "Did you learn to shoot straight yet, Allan?"

"You SON OF A…!"

"**Enough!"** Kagan snapped. Silence descended over the room, and the bristling lynx took hold of it with both hands. "Put your dicks away, sit down, and shut up! Last time I checked, there were more Primals than there were us, and that's a ratio I don't want to make any worse by watching you two tear each other to pieces!"

"Absolutely." Supreme General Zamrust of the Army harrumphed. "At ease, Al. You can have your pissing contest after this war's done."

Grey took a seat on the far side of the table, relaxed back, and motioned to General Sanderson. "Well? You need an invitation?"

"If you were in my command, I'd have you brought up on court martial for insubordination." Sanderson seethed. He finally took a seat and looked to Kagan. "All right. Go ahead and get started before I change my mind."

Kagan managed to keep from rolling his eyes and moved inside of the table, connecting his tablet with the holographic projector. He glanced up briefly and realized that the tomcat who'd been following him hadn't sat down yet. "Before I forget, gentlemen, I forgot to make another introduction. This is Commander Dackwood Pellerton. He's an analyst that works at the CSC. Go ahead and sit down, Dack." The mixed breed feline nodded gratefully and did so, plopping next to General Grey without ceremony. When General Kagan powered up the display, the room's door locked automatically, and the lights dimmed.

"As you know, we've recently been able to re-establish contact with our satellite network." Kagan began. "The destruction of the secondary command center on Venom destroyed the Primal's pirate broadcast. We've been able to determine that approximately 52 percent of our assets abroad have been lost. Another 12 percent have failed to communicate back to us, primarily land-based assets on other planets unable to flee. There's a chance they may have gone into hiding to avoid detection and destruction, but it's a slim hope."

Kagan brought out a remote control and clicked a button. The holographic display brought up the familiar image of the Lylat System, all of its planets, trade routes in green, military routes in blue, and satellites outlined with orange circles.

Kagan punched another button, and a vast swath of Lylat was highlighted in a translucent red aura. "As of this morning, the red area indicates the sections of Lylat under Primal dominance." The lynx said it flatly, leaving the impact to itself. "Currently, only Corneria, Katina, and Fichina remain under SDF control. Zoness and Fortuna are contested territory, and we have reports from our units in those regions that the Primals will soon consolidate their grip. We've issued a general retreat and reformation order for all forces to regroup at Sector Y, the closest gaseous nebula in the system at this phase of the system's revolution. Even with that, we expect only a small force in recovery. The SDF's main role in the last decade has been one of policing trade routes and stamping out minor incursions from rogue pirate elements. Simply put, the SDF was spread too thin."

The display beeped when Kagan hit another button, and the view zoomed in on Aquas. "As we speak, the Starfox Team is on sortie around Aquas, escorting several _Rondo_ class transports in a rescue effort. We have reason to believe that there are personnel either in orbit around the planet or who have crashed into it that can be saved. Per Admiral Weyland's orders, the _Wild Fox_ has remained in orbit above Corneria. For the time being, it is our planet's first line of defense."

"All right." General Zamrust folded his hands together and leaned forward. "So far, nothing too interesting. You set up this meeting because you said that some vital information had come across your desk about the Primals. We all have jobs to get back to, so say what you need to."

Kagan mustered a brief smile. "Right." The holographic display changed to the grisly image of a dead Primal soldier lying on an autopsy table. "When the Starfox Team successfully repelled the attack on Corneria…" He paused when Admiral Weyland coughed loudly, then went on with a correction, "…with the help of Colonel Whitwood's "Strike" Force out of McNabb AFB, we had an opportunity to study the remains of several Primal soldiers and pilots. We even had a living one for a time, but he died from his injuries before any usable intel could be retrieved."

He paused before forwarding to the next image; a double helix of genetic material. "This is a typical Lylatian's genetic code. You, me, anyone from Corneria. Over the last century, we've pushed into the other planets in the system, but our genetics haven't changed much."

He hit the remote's button, and a second strand of DNA began rotating next to the first. "The second sample comes from the DNA taken from our Primal corpses. They show genetic matches of a rate 80 percent or higher. The conclusion that the medical staff here at Cornelius AFB came to may be disturbing. Given the high improbability that other carbon based life forms would have that many similarities, the Primal broadcast that they made appears to be accurate."

Kagan swept the room before he tossed in the punchline. "Our Primal Invaders have come home."

"You can't be serious!" Sanderson snarled. Zamrust and Weyland went wide-eyed and said nothing, and General Grey only gnawed the end of his pipe even harder.

"Oh, I'm perfectly serious." Kagan responded. "And it makes sense. What confused us at the CSC in the early stages of the invasion was that after they crushed the 7th Fleet at Aquas, the Primals moved on and treated Venom as their primary target. If they had come full force at us here on Corneria instead of dispatching one ship, not even Starfox could have saved us. 75 years ago, Venom was seen as a dead world. It could support life, but it lacked the lush environment of Corneria. That's what made it so suitable a planet for the purposes of exile. However, archaeologists made some remarkable discoveries before they were recalled; Venom was home to some very ancient, and very impressive ruins. The mission reports from the original Starfox team indicate that Andross took advantage of some elements, such as the Golemech defense automaton. He didn't build them, though."

Kagan flashed through the next series of images rather quickly; temples, underground corridors, the Golemech itself, other relics brought to light. "When Andross was defeated and Venom was re-colonized, the diggers went back and continued to study the ruins…or what was left of them. War destroyed the bulk of what they had uncovered, but that hasn't stopped the Primals from digging further."

Vivid images of the Venomian landscape, dull, brown, mostly barren, flipped up on the projector. "These shots were taken during Starfox's raid on Venom by a new short range camera and communications device called a "Godsight Pod." Arspace developed them for use in collecting air combat data for Project Seraphim, but they were proven highly effective as a link system for laser-based optical communications. Currently, optical feeds are the only secure means of communication we have at our disposal, without tapping into Omega Black frequencies. I just wanted to make that clear, so you can all adjust your tactics accordingly."

He raised the remote one last time and forwarded to the last slide in his report.

"Dear Creator in heaven!" Zamrust exclaimed, stumbling up from his chair. "That's…"

"Real." Kagan finished. "Commander Pellerton, if you could share what your team came up with?"

The tomcat stood up and circled the room, passing out sheets of paper with talking points of what General Kagan had discussed.

"It goes without saying that I need these back when this meeting's done, but…That craft in the picture is five kilometers in diameter, and the Primals are _excavating it_ from the Venomian soil. That thing escaped the notice of our best archaeologists, and they went straight for it. Lylus only knows what else they're digging up out of the soil. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Andross had several "Bio-weapons" that he used in the course of the Lylat Wars, and there were a few of his creations that came back even after the Wars ended. Based on the evidence they collected and the geological records and surveying that archaeologists did later on…It is highly probable that their original claims, which were refuted at the time, really are true." Commander Pellerton smoothed back his ears for a moment, trying to calm himself. "Andross was converting technological and bio-engineered relics for his own use, using the remnants of past civilizations to his own ends. Given the Primals' own speech, and what they're digging up now, the conclusion, startling as it is, makes perfect sense."

Dackwood Pellerton blinked once. "The Primals share an unmistakable genetic and physical heritage with the simian species of Lylat, they claim that they have come to retake what is rightfully theirs, and their first move during the invasion was to locate and excavate hardware that we've never even dreamed of. All origin theories of us aside, we are left to deal with one numbing truth."

Pellerton shut his eyes. "The Primals have come home."


	15. The Harvester

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE HARVESTER

**Omega Black Radios**- A major breakthrough in quantum mechanics and its applications to military use, "Omega Black" communications equipment uses the basic principles of observation's effect on the location of subatomic particles to generate a secure transmission between two Omega Black "Resonance Receivers." The same principle which makes Omega Black messages so secure, however, is also what prevents it from being put to general use: Only conversations or messages of limited duration can be exchanged before the two receivers reach entropy and shift out of alignment.

**(From Wyatt Toad's personal logs)**

"_**Oh, geez. They're cool and all, but I don't see the point in dropping a million credits a pop to have a secret chat that can only last less than a minute and a half. Of course, Hackleberry was the one who came up with it, and he's been a crackpot since I knew him at Corneria Tech. Didn't think he'd ever find someone crazy enough to take it up the a…"**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Aquas Orbit_

"If we can't bomb it and we can't shoot it, how in the Hell are we supposed to save the trapped soldiers and blow it up?" Terrany called out, exasperated.

_**"You know, we could always try ramming it."**_KIT offered.

"Not helping, Falco!" Terrany snapped. "I'd prefer an option where we stand a chance of coming out alive."

"If we could knock those inhabited sections off of the Harvester, Dana could fly in and pick them up." Milo chimed in. "She'd still have to worry about those gravitational eddies, but I have an idea."

_"I hope it includes you neutralizing that thing's ability to shoot at us." _Dana said. _"I'm not keen on getting blasted out of the sky."_

"That field it's generating shows up fuzzy on my scopes where the "Add-ons" are." Milo went on. "Terrany, see if you can't land some shots right where our ships are connected."

"I'll try." Terrany swung back around and lined up her reticule on the thin edge where a torn off section of a Cornerian cruiser was latched to the Harvester's sphere. A quick squeeze of the trigger unleashed a three shot burst at the junction, which absorbed the shot with a flash of light, rather than deflecting it away. "Woah! That hit it!"

"It didn't actually hit the ship." Milo tamped down her enthusiasm. His Arwing cut a sharp turn around the Harvester, firing his own set of shots into the same spot. The counterattack from the borrowed cruiser's guns let off a stuttering, but short reply that failed to connect. "You hit the magnetic field _around_ the ship. If my guess is right, the power it takes that thing to keep the scraps connected and powered up makes the field vulnerable at the connecting points."

_"Your __**guess?**__" _Dana echoed. _"You came up with this plan without any plausible reason for why it might work?"_

"Hey, Tiger, you want somebody to explain the physics, you should've brought along Wyatt." The raccoon complained. "I tell you how to blow stuff apart, not why."

"Hey, it's enough." Terrany started a U-Turn back towards the Harvester again. "We have a plan, at least. Now we just have to follow through on it. I'll try and keep it busy, Milo. You…"

"Take the killshot?" The raccoon finished. "I suspected as much."

* * *

_Aquas Surface_

The downed ships floating on the water were forgotten by the Primal Death Blossom as the Arwings formed up.

Rourke's Seraph took the lead, and the Model K Arwings of the 21st flew behind him.

_"Starfox pilot, this is Captain Hound. Got any ideas about this thing?"_

"All I know, Captain, is that this configuration's called a Death Blossom." Rourke answered. The fused craft had no trouble matching their pace, and led them on a wild chase through one turn after another. "But based on what we've gone up against, I imagine it could knock us down pretty easily if we're not careful."

_"You've bumped heads with these guys before then?"_ Captain Hound asked.

"A couple of times, actually. They wiped out our space station in Sector X. We've been giving them payback ever since."

_"Wait." _Captain Hound cut in, realizing the truth of the horrible incident that had taken him and his team into the meat grinder of the 7th Fleet. _"The Arwings Admiral Howlings was expecting…those were yours?"_

"The X-1 Seraph Arwings, yeah." Rourke answered. "We took a beating…I even lost a wing…but we beat them back. We booked out for repairs and made it back to Corneria in time to save the CSC."

_"And you couldn't get here any sooner?" _Captain Hound demanded.

"We've been busy." Rourke replied tersely. The Death Blossom spun about wildly for a moment, keeping them guessing to its direction. When it finally jumped, the three Arwings had a half-second's hesitation before they pulled after it, hitting the retros to brake and sharply turn. "This thing's twitchy, all right!"

Off his left wing, a younger voice chirped in. _"I'll get 'im. Homing shot charged…locked!" _A ball of green laserlight soared from the nose of Wallaby Preen's Arwing and tracked in on the fleeing craft, but the Death Blossom blasted clear of it with a jerking thrust upwards. The homing blast couldn't follow the trail fast enough, and shot off harmlessly. _"Dang! How did it break my lock on?"_

"These things are self-piloting." Rourke kept after the thing and squeezed off a volley of hyper laserfire after the bouncing ship. "They've got no reason to compensate for G-Forces." His scatterburst only managed to nick it, and the wolf swore. "Homing shots aren't any good. That'll rule out Smart Bombs."

_"Then we overlap our fields of fire and catch it in the cross."_ Captain Hound boosted past Rourke, taking the lead again. _"Think you can keep up with us, even with just two engines?"_

Rourke almost answered with a taunt before he realized that Captain Hound had no idea what kind of capabilities the Seraph Arwings had. He settled for an uneasy chuckle. "Hey, I'll try."

_"All right then. Wallaby, high and low!"_

The two Arwings of the 21st Squadron split off, arcing up and down. The Death Blossom kept on its path, and Rourke swerved after it. His finger lightly stroked the trigger. "This could get interesting…"

**"In a hurry."** His ODAI agreed. **"You think these guys have the right stuff?"**

"Did we?" Rourke asked. The AI chortled.

**"Point taken, boss. You do have a knack for getting shot up."**

"Let's keep the Death Blossom focused on me then." Rourke slid his thrusters up farther and scaled back the wings, sacrificing maneuverability for speed. He followed the Primal ship on its wild, bobbing course and shot laserfire after it, missing intentionally to guide its course. The thing whipped about and hurled a salvo of five shots from its guns. Rourke spun into a half-hearted barrel roll and dipped below the line of fire. The Blossom spun itself about and triggered its thrusters, moving away from him.

Right into the converging field of fire as Captain Hound came in from above and Wallaby shot up from below. The hyper laserfire riddled the amalgam for a full second as the Blossom tried to establish the source of the threat. It finally broke loose with a blast of thrusters intense enough to create a shockwave in the air, trailing smoke behind it.

_"Nice shooting, Wallaby!" _Hound praised his pilot. The two Arwings streaked past each other before turning to even themselves to level flight.

The Death Blossom righted itself a fair distance away, then doubled back on the recovering Arwings. It opened up with all guns, firing more ferociously than it had before.

"Look out, it's firing!" Rourke cried out. The two Model K Arwings did their best to deflect the barrage, but the Blossom was more maneuverable than they could accommodate before. Each turn and barrel roll the two offered was quickly circumvented, and their shields flared as the layers of energy protection were thinned away.

_"Lylus damn it all, what kind of ship is this?" _Hound shouted. _"That barrage should have killed it!"_

_"Captain, I'm taking a beating here!" _Wallaby cried. _"I don't think this ship can take much more!"_

Rourke grit his teeth, boosting his speed higher as he made up for lost time. The Blossom was dancing around the two Model Ks as though they were standing still; he'd never be able to land a shot directly.

"Captain, I hope you've got more than 30 percent shielding left!" Rourke cut in. He thumbed his trigger, watching the familiar red targeting reticule pop up onscreen.

It locked onto the closest Model K.

_"Lylus almighty, son, what the Hell are you doing?"_ Captain Hound demanded. _"You've locked on to me!"_

Rourke reached his thumb to the bomb release at the top of his control stick. "Savin' your hide, old dog." He pressed the switch and felt a slight vibration rattle the Arwing. A rocketing red light screamed for the melee.

The Death Blossom didn't register the attack as a threat, since the lock-on hadn't targeted it. It was only when the Smart Bomb began the quarter second's worth of buildup before the explosion that the construct recognized the danger, and boosted away. The searing blast of red light and energy still baked its frame as it escaped the worst, causing it to smoke even harder. Several of the outermost clawlike wings broke off, unable to stand the wind's buffeting effect.

Rourke pulled in close to the other two Arwings, which looked functional, but battered. They couldn't take much more abuse. "You two all right?"

_"Damnit, you crazy son of a bitch, who in the Hell do you think you are?" _Captain Hound demanded.

"Starfox Team's new flight lead." Rourke answered. "You fall back, I'll finish this thing off."

_"The three of us have only managed to wing this bastard. What makes you think your "Seraph" Arwing can take it on solo?" _Wallaby Preen asked.

Rourke smiled, concentrated, and fell into synch with his ODAI. A small prick of electricity across his scalp from his helmet's connectors…And once more, he saw the world through his ship's eyes.

Captain Hound and Wallaby Preen stared, dumbfounded, as the G-Diffusers quartered themselves open, and two more sets of wings opened up from the primaries. In a flash, the butterfly appeared from the cocoon.

When Rourke spoke again, his voice was more patterned, but still self-assured.

_**"I sprang for the deluxe model."**_

_**

* * *

**_

Milo let the Harvester slip away from him, taking several breaths to calm his nerves. Merge Mode required tranquility of mind and no hesitation.

The tingle of his helmet against his scalp picked up, now nothing more than a minor prod to indicate the transfer.

_"Merge Mode engaging. Synchronization rate is 62 percent."_

Milo blinked, and the world slowed to a crawl.

Merge Mode was perceived differently depending on the pilot. Terrany had described hers as being in a vast, open white space, standing next to the digitized consciousness of KIT. Rourke, when he'd been pestered with it enough, had said it was like standing in front of an array of viewscreens, as though he were flying the ship remotely. Dana had said it was the most surreal experience of her life, as if she was watching herself while floating as a ghost above.

For Sergeant Milo Granger, his perception was sharpened, broadened. The out of body experience, though, didn't happen. Of the Seraph pilots, his Synch rate was the least impressive, his AI the most undeveloped.

His aim was the best, though.

A clock appeared in the top right corner of his blended vision, counting down from five minutes very slowly.

**Pulse laser online. **

Milo's finger settled on the trigger. Only a fraction of force would be needed to unleash the devastating beam. The G-Negator induced field around him brought him closer to the Harvester, but not so close that it picked him up as a danger. Yet. "Ready, Terrany."

"Roger that. I'm moving in!"

Terrany's Arwing screamed around the appendaged sphere, rattling the connecting point of another arm with a triple burst. It shifted around and took aim after her, and gave Milo the opportunity he needed.

The first shot burrowed through the connective magnetic field at the junction of the weakened gun arm the Harvester had made. A crackling aura lit up around the sphere, and dissipated where his shot had hit. When the Harvester moved away to cover itself, the borrowed section of Cornerian cruiser was left behind.

_"That's one!" _Dana called out excitedly. _"Good shooting, Milo!"_

Milo said nothing, turning his Arwing about fractionally as he centered the reticule on a second arm. He fired, and amidst another blaze of energy, the Harvester lost a second arm.

The power readings from the other borrowed sections of wreckage fluctuated every time a segment was cut away. "Interesting." Milo heard his voice as though it was coming from a speaker. "The Harvester's field looks like it destabilizes every time it drops a chunk off."

Terrany broke free of a hailstorm of laserfire from the remaining arms and swung around for another pass. She strafed the open surface of the Harvester with a test volley as she passed, and this time, the thick shell absorbed the blasts instead of reflecting them away. "Milo! You're weakening the protective barrier around it! Keep knocking sections off!"

"Roger." The Harvester must have realized the danger it was in, because it started to move off away from the Arwings and turned the remaining arms around. Terrany followed, but quickly had to dive clear of a maelstrom of missiles launched in her direction. Milo adjusted his aim around the storm and squeezed off two more Pulse laser shots, severing another pair of ship sections which had no active weapons. "Dana, track those life sign readings. Are they sticking next to the Harvester?"

_"…Negative! They're falling away from it! You did it, Milo!"_

The most irritating part about Merge Mode, Milo reminded himself, was communicating while inside of it. It was as though there was a delay in transmission, that made the entire world seem three steps behind.

The Merge Mode timer ticked down. He'd eaten up more precious seconds, most of it spent positioning himself between shots and trying to keep up with the Harvester. The Seraph was fast in Merge Mode, with unparalleled maneuverability, but the loss of thrusters meant it never traveled quite as fast as it did in normal operations.

"Keep after it, Terrany. I'm coming in after you. Try and force it farther out, we'll want to clear a path for Dana to come and make the rescue."

"Got it." Terrany peppered the surface of the Harvester with laserfire, keeping the Primal ship off balance and on the defensive. It fled away from the threat, and left behind the tattered section of Cornerian cruiser holding the few precious lives left.

_"All right, you two. I'm leaving that Harvester in your hands." _Dana announced. The bulky Rondo Transport she was flying advanced towards the ship fragment, and the two Arwings left her behind in their wake.

Milo's ODAI flashed a warning that the pilot picked up instantly. **Pulse Laser capacitors approaching redline.**

_**Estimate shots remaining before redline.**_

**Approximately four.**

Milo kept closing the gap, took aim, and lanced another searing burst of photons through one of the weapons arrays the Harvester had taken from the debris field. He was rewarded with a satisfying explosion as the plasmic warheads tucked in the missile racks shattered the arm apart from a rapidly expanding gas cloud.

Terrany swerved around the shrapnel the blast created, and peppered the sphere with another unwelcome helping of laserfire.

Milo willed the thing to slow down, turn, and fight. All the while, a large corner of his mind counted down the capacitor reserves.

"Three."

* * *

The survivors of the Cornerian SDF Cruiser _Gavial_ had suffered through three days of silence, clinging to life inside of the airtight compartment they'd been fortunate to be in when the rest of their ship had fragmented apart from the Primal assault. That had been followed by a more harrowing experience that bounced them around like sardines in a can, as _something_ seemed to grab hold of them and take them along for the ride. In the darkness, broken only by their emergency glowsticks and one singular transparisteel porthole that let them look outside, they were witness to a firefight between two Arwings, and whatever it was that had captured them.

The highest ranking officer in the space was a looming loxodon, Ensign Harrin Maxus. A blast of air through his elongated, gray trunk silenced the worried chatters of the crew. "Enough." He snapped, rubbing a tusk on his sleeve. "Panicking isn't going to change a damned thing. Just let them do their jobs." The crew, to its credit, settled down and kept their resolve. Harrin gave his head a shake and rubbed a hand against the window, clearing off the frost that had built up on it.

The second Arwing fell back while the first kept up the attack. A minute passed before the situation changed.

A shudder ran through the sealed compartment, and once more, they found themselves floating free of any ship's influence. Staring through the window, Ensign Maxus watched as the Arwings raced away from their spinning prison…chasing after a menacing looking sphere that still had plenty of spindly arms, made up of destroyed Cornerian ships.

"Geez." He uttered, then spoke up for the benefit of the others. "It was a big sphere that was hanging on to us. The Arwings are chasing it away."

"Wait a minute, they're _leaving us?"_ One of the crew demanded. "We'll die out here!"

Ensign Maxus turned his head around and gave the huddled crew a hard look. They were all cowered together to conserve body heat, a necessity given how their compartment wasn't heated. "Would you like them to try and rescue us while that _thing_ is still out there, Lassiter?"

The crewman had the good sense not to answer, but even if he had, he would have been cut off.

The battered compartment from the destroyed ship _Gavial_ shuddered as something else attached on to it. A loud _**thunkk**_ echoed through the thick walls, hushing them all up. As the crew cried out in panic, an acetylene torch suddenly began to eat its way through the hull, on the far side from where they were.

"Quiet!" Maxus ordered, and his mind went to work. "Someone's cutting through, and if they are, then that means…"

The cutting torch finished its rotation quickly, leaving a glowing ring of melted metal surrounding the weakened section. A loud smash kicked it in, and artificial light blasted into the compartment.

Squinting against the glare, Ensign Maxus and the survivors of the _Gavial_ saw a heavy boot retreat back through the open portal…A narrow doorframe, leading into a cargo bay.

A Cornerian Manx tomcat stuck his head through and shone a flashlight on them.

"Everyone all right in here?"

Cheers erupted, and the survivors swarmed for the new exit. Ensign Maxus was the last to cross, and he struggled to fit because of his size. On the other end, the tomcat was waiting with a smile and a handshake. "Glad to see you all made it all right. Lance Corporal Brushwire, Cornerian Airborne. And you are…?"

"Ensign Harrin Maxus of the _Gavial_. I didn't think anyone would come for us."

"If the Starfox team hadn't shut down the Venomian satellite uplink, we wouldn't have even known you were out here." The tomcat answered easily.

Ensign Maxus flicked his large ears. "The…Starfox Team?"

He glanced around, and realized that he and the other survivors were now inside a Rondo class transport. The rescue crews aboard were busy handing out blankets and warm cups of chicken broth and coffee to the others.

"Yeah." Lance Corporal Brushwire chuckled. "Hell of a lot's happened in the last three days, sir. I'd be happy to tell you all about it, even introduce you to our pilot. She's a member of the new Starfox Team, even. Care for a mug of coffee first?"

Ensign Maxus shook his head. "Not right now. But you could tell me where your head is."

Corporal Brushwire laughed and pointed along one side of the transport, where a line was standing outside of a small door. "You may have to wait a bit."

Ensign Maxus winced. "Of course."

* * *

"Geez, Captain, what the Hell is that thing_?"_ Wallaby Preen asked. The marsupial, against all his training, fixated on a single target in the airspace; the "Seraph" Arwing being piloted by the Starfox member.

Captain Hound eased back on the throttle and let his very damaged Arwing relax after the hard fight. "No idea. But I want one."

What disturbed Captain Hound the most about the Seraph in its new form was that the two thrusters that normally glowed a constant white red were now dormant and inactive. The Seraph flew in spite of it, moving with a fluid grace that it had not possessed before.

* * *

The Death Blossom was still smoking around its edges, and with some of its outer extremities missing, it made for a pathetic sight. That didn't stop the automated unit from spinning towards Rourke. The Merged Seraph, defying all logic, seemed to _sidestep_ the ramming attack. The quick movement was made without any angling of the ship's front in the direction of travel. Only when the Blossom had passed it did the ship move, a sudden swerve that did not change its new position, only the facing.

And then the Seraph blasted a roar of white laserfire into the Death Blossom's side and back, with more power and ferocity than even hyper lasers had possessed. Already battered by the smart bomb, the Death Blossom disintegrated into pieces in midair, exploding after the power cells inside of the individual grapplers went critical.

The skies went silent, and the Seraph Arwing hovered in place. _**"Target eliminated."**_ Came the voice of the Starfox pilot. The secondary wings lowered back in and locked into the primary set, the blue G-Diffuser units reformed back into their standard diamond shape, and the thrusters on the read of the ship blasted back to life.

* * *

_"Holy mother of…"_ Captain Hound uttered. _"You just…in ten seconds…"_

"Eight seconds." Rourke cut him off. He swung his Arwing in a lazy arc around the lingering cloud of smoke that marked the Death Blossom's resting place, keeping the older Arwings in view. "Explanations later. Give me your ship status."

_"I wouldn't want to put these Model K's through another fight, but they're still flying. My shield generators are toasted, though; that stunt you pulled baked what was left."_

Rourke spared himself the chastising wince. "Do you have FTL drive?"

_"Negative."_ Came the glum response from Captain Hound.

The decision was an easy one after that. "Go ahead and set down in the ocean. Abandon the aircraft and join with the other survivors. The transports will be there shortly."

_"Roger that, pilot." _Captain Hound drummed his fingers on the joystick. _"Hey, hotshot, I never did get your name."_

Rourke rolled his eyes. It was days like this he wished that they'd come up with callsigns for the Starfox team, but considering that Terrany's had been given to their mothership…

"Lieutenant Rourke O'Donnell, flight lead of the Starfox team."

He received no answer after that, but the two Model K Arwings headed down for the surface to meet with the others and wait for pickup.

Rourke switched frequencies. "Rondo 3, Rondo 4, your flight path is clear. Pick 'em up and let's RTB before the Primals decide to get smart and send anything else after us."

_"Roger that, Lieutenant. And good shooting, by the way."_ Came the more pleasant voice of Rondo 3's pilot. _"Keep an eye on the topdeck for us. Shouldn't take us long."_

"Roger that." Rourke responded wearily. He set the Seraph on an autopilot patrol pattern and leaned back, rubbing at his forehead.

**"What's the matter, sport? Usually you pretend to have a headache **_**before**_** we do the nasty."**

"What perverted corner of my mind did you spawn from, ODAI?" Rourke growled at his AI. The Seraph's programming construct laughed a bit, but composed itself enough to get serious again.

**"You thinking that this Captain Hound's going to give you flak about your family name?"**

"Think, ODAI." The wolf set his hand back on the stick and disengaged the autopilot. He inverted his Arwing and stared down at the endless waves of blue below. "Who, in the entire run of Project Seraphim, didn't try and flatten my face in because of it? Hell, even Terrany tried to trounce me, and she's my wingman."

**"Skip didn't." **ODAI advised him sagely.

The reference to Captain Carl McCloud drained all the adrenaline out of Rourke, and left him feeling incredibly tired, more than the Merge alone had done.

He rolled his Arwing rightside up and wiggled his wings as the two Rondo transports passed by him and leveled out for a landing on the ocean surface.

For all its snark, his ODAI usually ended up being right. Rourke hated having a conscience outside of his body.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Cornerian Orbit_

The doors to the Bridge hissed open, and General Grey stepped out. His Executive Officer got up from the command chair and stood at attention. "Welcome back, sir."

"Yeah, yeah." The old hound waved off the greeting and moved for the chair. The residual warmth unsettled him a bit, and he shuffled until he reworked the groove for his own comfort. "Anything on sensors, Hogsmeade?"

The porcine radar operator glanced over from his station. "Just friendlies, General. Exactly how we want it for a change."

"Uh huh." General Grey allowed himself a small smile and dug out his corncob pipe. He stuck the end between his teeth and bit down, keeping it unlit for the moment. "Any word from the Starfox Team yet?"

With the lynx Woze off duty, it was the soft-nosed bat Sasha who was on station. She gave her head a shake. "Nothing yet, sir. I'll let you know the moment they call."

"If they're following operational procedure, they won't call unless something goes wrong." General Grey scratched a claw at the side of his face. "Of course, if something goes _really_ wrong, they won't be able to call anyways."

"They'll do fine, sir." XO Dander reassured him. "Permission to head down to the mess?"

"Granted." Grey shooed his second in command towards the door. "And bring me back a cup of coffee when you're done. The meeting wasn't much fun."

Dander knew better than to press the issue, so he gave a quick salute and headed for the elevator. Grey relaxed back in his seat and stared at the forward-looking display, which showed a sliver of Corneria below as they orbited around it.

There was little else to do now besides wait.

* * *

_The Tribunal Hall_

_Primal Headquarters_

_Venom_

Tinder Squadron had been separated the moment they were brought into command, locked in chains and put in cells to rot after a lengthy and torturous debriefing. Tinder 1, the Captain of the flight, knew very well the fate that awaited him and his team. A brief military tribunal to heap the blame on their shoulders, and then the usual punishment.

Death by immolation.

The brown-eyed Primal looked up as his cell door opened. The guard wasted no words. "They're ready for you."

Arms clinking from the metal that binded them, the dishonored Telemos Fendhausen stood up and followed without uttering a syllable.

He was led down the main corridor of the detention area, past the guards at the entrance, and into the adjoining Tribunal Hall. The old stone structure of the ancestors had withstood the test of time, and new, lustrous braziers burning with fire caused light to flicker around the room and bounce off of the flags bearing the Lord of Flames' emblem.

Telemos stood on the floor, four meters below the panel of five Tribunes, and bowed his head.

"I submit to this Council's will." He uttered, the phrase that signaled the beginning of the proceedings.

The lead judge, an evolved Primal of limited facial hair and pale skin in place of fur, looked down upon him and spoke with a booming voice. "High Captain Telemos Fendhausen of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance. Former Commander of the elite atmospheric aerial defense force, Tinder Squadron. The Tribunal has reviewed the charges laid against you, and the circumstances that led to the hated Arwings of _Starfox_ destroying the system-wide satellite uplink facility upon our ancient homeland." The name of the squadron known for its Arwings was spat like an invective, causing even the other judges to wince. "We find the results distasteful, the outcome unbearable. Because of the actions of your squadron and those we placed in defense of our home, we have lost the ultimate tactical advantage over our enemies. We can no longer track their movements over vast distances. Such failure has but one outcome."

Telemos closed his eyes. The death would be swift. A Tribunal's sentence was acted on immediately.

The harshness faded from the lead Tribunes' voice. "And yet, you and your men are the only ones to have flown against the Arwings of Starfox who have lived to speak of it."

Telemos opened his eyes and stared up at the Tribunal, surprised at the unusual development. The surprise caused an uneasiness from the guards within the chambers as well, but the judges remained unperturbed.

The elder Tribune steepled his hairless, knobby fingers together and stared over the top of them. "The conquest of our ancient homeland among the stars will not be easily won. These…Lylatians, as they call themselves, fight fiercely for what they believe is _their_ home. And now they have a symbol to rally behind, these…These Arwings, this Starfox team. The Lord of Flames has decreed them the ultimate threat to our triumph. As long as they fly, these pitiful animals will struggle on."

The Tribune pulled his hands back and settled more easily into his chair. "For the Primal cause to advance, we must counter the Starfox squadron with one of equal…superior talent. So did the Lord of Flames command. Your failure remains, but the punishment is postponed. You and your men are to report to the Halls of Antiquity immediately. There, you will be given a chance to earn the forgiveness of our Master. The stain of your defeat will stay with you, Telemos. Until you accomplish the task that has been given to you, you are henceforth stripped of your family's title and honor."

The announcement jarred Tinder 1's senses, stinging him in a way that few Cornerians could ever understand. To the Primals, honor and legacy was second only to loyalty to the Lord of Flames. In many ways, it was a fate worse than death. Living in shame could be unbearable.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to find the conviction to speak again. "I will not fail." Captain Telemos, no longer Fendhausen of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance, vowed. He steeled himself, and added a dash more of courage. "I will _destroy_ Starfox. I will destroy their Terrany McCloud, and regain the honor of my House. This I swear, or may I die in the glory of combat, serving my God."

The lead Tribune tapped a small chime, sounding the end of the hearing. "Let all true Primal hearts burn bright." He spoke, and the Tribunal Council rose from their seats. Everyone averted their eyes as the elders departed, and Telemos bowed, as was tradition.

Staring at the floor, the once despondent Primal felt a surge of emotions ignite the fury in his chest. Shame at his dishonor. Joy at a second chance.

Seething, undeniable hatred for Starfox.

And for the white vixen called Terrany.

* * *

The white vixen Terrany McCloud spun clear as Milo, finally closing the gap, unloaded three more Pulse laser bolts and blew away the last of the necrotized arms from the Harvester.

The Merged Seraph pulled in the secondary control wings and reactivated its thrusters.

"That does it for the God mode on this thing." Milo joked. "I'm getting some new readings from the Harvester, though. Looks like our little gambit upset it."

The sensor package on Milo's Arwing didn't lie; An instability in the magnetic field around the Harvester was causing it to wobble erratically, trying to flee its attackers. The sphere crashed into several large pieces of debris from Primal ships as it did so, which made the invisible energy field around it to flare even more brightly.

Terrany set on a speed pursuit course, pulling the wings back to interceptor position. "That thing's floundering, Milo! Now's our chance!" Singleminded determination guided her on, and she swerved low to avoid the scraps of metal that the Harvester knocked out behind it.

Milo, ever the more relaxed of the reformed Starfox team, held back a bit more and watched his HUD readouts more than his targeting reticule. It showed him a picture that Terrany hadn't anticipated. Though the Harvester's shell was losing the magnetic field around it, the thermal images from the sphere were relatively cool. Every so often, though, a thin plume of heat would show up on his scanners, as though it were cracking, or…

"Oh, shoot!" Milo said aloud, realizing the cause. "Terrany, go evasive! That thing's going to crack open, and I'm not liking what I'm seeing inside of it!"

Terrany banked hard left away from the Harvester on Milo's warning, and none too soon; the Harvester's magnetic field dissipated entirely, and the sphere's shell cracked open wide. A wave of roiling plasma washed out in all directions away from it, seeking the quickest exit. Terrany's maneuver saved her ship from what would have been a critical baking, and Milo had an easier time dipping below the blast wave, barely nudging the control stick first down, then back up.

His sensor package got its first good look at the interior of the Harvester, and Milo smiled. A massive gyroscopic power core at its center seemed to be responsible for generating both the operational energy of the craft and its potent magnetic field. "Well, all right then." He checked his HUD once more to make sure Terrany was all right; the artificial outline his ODAI set around her Seraph showed that she was already turning around to move back on the attack.

Milo cross-referenced the Harvester log file he had, sized up the situation, and came up with a plan.

"Terrany, it looks like that power core got overloaded when we knocked off the Harvester's arms. It cracked open to vent the excess energy before it went critical."

Terrany charged up a homing shot and locked on to the visible weak spot inside the Harvester's interior. "Then let's not give it a chance to do the whole thing over again."

Inside her cockpit, KIT let out a guffaw. _"Now we're talking, McCloud. Every nut has a weak spot you can crack it at."_

"Hey, Kit?" Terrany grinned, loosing her first laserburst and followup shot volley. The fading glow from the spinning gyroscopic power core was jarred back to life when the energy from her attack hit the coils. "Remember what you said about how you and my granddad had it easy way back when?"

_**"About how everything he needed to shoot at…Oh. Oh, you sick little girl, you."**_

Terrany waited until the lock-on chime sounded again, and hit the bomb release. The reticule was tied to the luminescent core of the Harvester, and stayed there until Terrany veered the nose away and turned for safer airspace. "It's glowing."

Sensing the danger from its injuries, the Harvester began to pull in on itself. It had vented the buildup of excess energy, and the damage was becoming worrisome. The retracting sphere couldn't close itself in time, and a zooming dot of red light, the Smart Bomb Terrany had fired, cut through the opening just before the sphere's shell closed up.

Milo disengaged the enhanced sensor view on his HUD, not wanting to be blinded for what he knew was coming. The Harvester was still for a moment, then suddenly shook and rattled as the bomb it had swallowed went off and baked every vital component inside of its armor-plated skin to dust. Without the controlling influence of the gyroscopic core, the energy reaction inside of it went critical.

The Harvester exploded in a shower of molten slag, furious out of control plasma, and atomized space dust. Milo and Terrany quickly boosted out of the path of destruction, and kept racing back the way they'd come for several seconds after before they eased back on the throttle.

"Hell yeah!" Terrany whooped. "Lylus, did you see that? That thing went up like a firefracker!"

Milo let out a long sigh and shrugged in his seat. "Well, it had an awful lot to stomach."

_"Hoooly cow. Tell me I'm hearing things."_ Came Dana's cheerful voice. _"Milo, making a joke? It is the end of the world."_

"I love you too, Tiger." The ring-tailed raccoon remarked. "How'd the pickup go?"

_"We've recovered some of the crew of the Cruiser _Gavial. _They were in a compartment of the ship that went into lockdown before it got blown apart. Twenty-two rescued."_

"Twenty-two?" Terrany said, surprise taking over her earlier joy. "That's all?"

"No, McCloud." Rourke's voice cut into the channel, and his Arwing and Rondo 3 and 4 appeared on her scope as they soared up from the surface of Aquas. "We picked up another 167 on the surface…three of them being Arwing pilots from the 21st Squadron. That makes a total of 189 survivors." He paused for a moment, then said what the entire team was thinking at that moment. "We lost five more souls on Rondo 2 to save 189. We did good, but I could have done without the loss."

_"You're not comfortable playing the numbers game, are you boss?" _Dana asked quietly.

"No." Came the resolute reply from the lead Arwing of Starfox. "It never ends."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Cornerian Orbit_

_2 Hours Later_

Hogsmeade found himself absolutely astounded at how sensitive the sensor array on board the aged Mark 2 mothership really was; even with the software upgrade that SDF had patched in through ROB, it could pick up disturbances in Subspace at distances comparable to the most focused electronic warfare cruisers.

"General, sir, we've got inbounds in FTL. Multiples; vectors suggest a course from Aquas."

General Grey righted himself imperceptibly, eyes staring to the main monitor at the front of the bridge. It presented the same image of Corneria below, with the ship orbiting at 28,000 kilometers an hour. "Probably Starfox on their way back. Still…let's stick to procedure on this one. Corporal Updraft, bring us about so we're aimed at their re-entry lane."

"Yes, sir!" The red-feathered avian was quick to respond, and Corneria fell away as the Wild Fox nosed its way out of orbit and towards space. Grey turned his attention to the Artificial Intelligence construct hardwired into every aspect of the ship's systems.

"ROB, power up the turbolasers and ready a spread of missiles."

The robot's visor contained most of the sudden red glare from its optics as it made the connection and issued the requisite command. "Weapons are armed and ready. Awaiting verbal command."

Grey chewed on his pipe stem. "ROB, if you ever felt like it, could you just fire them yourself?"

"I have the capability to run this ship autonomously, in the absence of a crew." ROB stated in digitized monotone. "However, I do not feel like it. At this time."

His finish caused scattered laughter on the bridge, which was well timed. The incoming craft were likely the transports and the Starfox escort, but it could have just as easily been a Primal attack force. The tension needed easing.

One and a half precious minutes ticked by as the inbounds came closer through subspace, tracking from the edge of the _Wild Fox's_ sensor range. Then came the ripple in visible light wavelengths as the ships exited subspace and phased into reality as it was.

Everyone relaxed as three Arwings and three Rondo transports appeared in front of them.

"Stand down weapons." General Grey said. He toggled the communications switch on his chair's armrest. "Welcome back, Starfox. How did the mission go?"

_"We rescued 189 personnel from the debris field and planetside, General." _Rourke called back. _"Permission to escort the transports to Cornelius for passenger offload."_

"Granted." Grey felt a crawling sense of dread grip his chest. The viewscreen displayed the IF/F signals for all the spacecraft, but even without it, it was clear that one ship was missing from the procession. "Lieutenant, where's Rondo 2?"

The old hound could tell that Rourke was stuck in a long pause. _"The Primals left behind some automated defenses at the site to wipe out any stragglers. We took them down, but…Rondo 2 didn't make it."_

Nobody was cheering at the mission's success after that. Grey closed his eyes. "Get them planetside, Rourke. They've waited long enough to come home."

* * *

_Cornelius Air Force Base_

_Just Outside of Corneria City, Corneria_

A sea of military personnel swarmed out of the three surviving Rondo transports and into the warm midday sun and welcoming arms of their fellow countrymen. The procession was led by MPs into an empty, still somewhat battered hangar bay where medical tents and a massive buffet of food and beverages had been set up for the survivors of the Battle of Aquas. The preparations were spot on; three days adrift with nothing but rations, if they were lucky, had made the crewmembers absolutely ravenous.

Floating camera pods and reporters from all the major Cornerian news outlets recorded the scene, glad to be able to give another bit of good news in a war that was only three days old, and still a far cry from being assured of victory.

Rourke, Milo, and Terrany had parked their Seraph Arwings a fair distance away from the transports, and walked half the distance to them to meet up with Dana. The orange-furred tigress gave her team a weary smile and nodded her head. "They'll be okay now. We saved their lives out there."

"Another team effort, as far as I'm concerned." Milo agreed. "You know, Terrany, we may make a respectable pilot out of you yet."

"Hey, now." The albino-furred vixen protested. "I'm already the best pilot on this team."

"That's debatable." Rourke mused lowly. "And besides, he said _respectable_."

"Oh." Terrany said, finally catching the meaning. "Well, I'm working on it."

Dana lost interest in the conversation and glanced back to the transports, noticing that three individuals in flight suits were headed towards them. "Heads up, guys. Looks like we've got some company coming."

"They probably want to thank us." Milo suggested.

"Hell, they should give us a medal." Terrany added, earning a chuckle from KIT in her earpiece transceiver.

The three turned out to be a canine, a marsupial, and a squirrel, all of who were wearing flight jackets with clearly marked emblems. Terrany found herself standing a little straighter as she realized their wellwishers were Arwing pilots…21st Squadron, based on the emblem. The dog in front took a step towards the Starfox team and glanced between them all, settling his gaze firmly on Rourke at the end.

"Rourke O'Donnell?" He questioned.

Rourke nodded his head and reached his hand out in greetings. "And you'd be Captain Lars Hound, of the…"

Captain Hound's hand also extended out, but it was in the shape of a fist, and moving faster than Rourke could react. In one quick, well-timed punch, the leader of the 21st Squadron caught Rourke squarely on the chin and knocked him to the ground.

"Hey!" Dana shouted angrily, quickly stepping in front of her flight lead. "What the Hell's your problem?"

Captain Hound seethed as his wingmen quickly reached out and grabbed him by the arms. "You hot-dogging son of a bitch. You could have killed us out there with that stunt you pulled, and you're standing here smiling like some Goddamned hero. I lost my second in command out in that battle because we were ordered to replace _you_ on the line."

"Captain, take it easy!" Wallaby Preen stammered. "He saved our lives, remember?"

"Stow it, rookie." Captain Hound snapped at the young pilot. He turned his glare back on Rourke, who was rubbing at his chin, but didn't make a move to stand back up and risk a second blow. "You're nothing but space pirate scum. It should have been you that died out there, not Argen."

Not brooking a rebuttal, Captain Hound turned and stormed off. The squirrel chased after him calling out his name, and Wallaby lingered a moment to mumble a hasty apology to the team before hopping after his unit.

"He…he punched you!" Terrany exclaimed, helping Rourke back up to his feet.

The wolf stretched his jaw left and right to check for any lasting damage, then closed his mouth when he was satisfied there wasn't a fracture. "Yeah. I have that effect on people." Rourke explained dryly. The sidewards glance he gave Terrany made the vixen blush in shame from the memory of how she'd acted when they first met face to face.

"He's just hurting, is all." Milo rationalized, giving Rourke a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "He'll cool off soon enough."

"I hope so." Said Dana, eyes turned across the base to the reporters and camera pods. Every lens was turned on them now, and had likely observed the scuffle. "Something tells me that the story on the news tonight isn't going to focus on the lives saved."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Mess Hall_

_That Night_

The evening meal had been served hours ago, and Pugs and his crew had cleaned up the mess and turned out the lights. It left the expansive dining hall empty and in the dark, with only a pilot light near the front entrance illuminating a basket of fruit and stale cinnamon rolls for anyone who might crave a midnight snack. Anybody who casually wandered in would see the food, take the food, and disappear, which was exactly what Rourke O'Donnell preferred.

He sat at the very back of the Mess, staring out the reinforced transparisteel window along the side of the room. A nearly empty bottle of beer hung by its neck between his middle and index fingers, long ago brought up to room temperature. He looked at the blue marble of Corneria hanging below him, replaying memories inside his head, and glad for the solitude. He'd always been more comfortable on his own, after all.

The doors to the Mess hissed open, and a voice called into the darkness. "Rourke?" It was Terrany. "You in here?"

Hoping she might go away, the lead pilot of Starfox said nothing and didn't move, just in case she might catch sight of him in her peripheral vision. Even without any cues from him, she still sauntered inside and headed straight for the wolf.

Rourke sighed, watching her from the corner of his eye. "There's no one in here, McCloud."

"Yeah?" Terrany countered. Without asking for permission, she plopped down in the seat beside him. He noticed she was carrying something; a collection of small canisters. "Why'd you talk, then?"

Rourke rolled his eyes. "Wish I knew. How'd you know I was in here?"

Something cold and metallic was pushed into the side of his face, and Rourke snatched at it. He finally caught on that Terrany had shoved a can of beer at him. The vixen shrugged nonchalantly and pulled a second can off of her six pack. "Milo said you had a habit of going off and being by yourself when things didn't go right. I figured you might need some company."

"Really?" Rourke pressed a claw into the can's pop top and pried it open with a hiss. "If I came here to be alone, McCloud, why in the Creator's green world would I need some company?"

"Family rule." Terrany said. Rourke gave her a closer look, and noticed for the first time that her usually white fur seemed to shine blue under the pale reflected light from Corneria. "Nobody drinks alone. Something my dad told us when Skip and I were young."

"Huh." Rourke grunted. "Some dad."

"Oh yeah?" Terrany sniped. "What advice did your dad give you that was so great?"

Rourke shrugged. "Hell if I know. He died when I was one. My granddad…Wolf…raised me. And _his_ rule was, if you had an issue, use a tissue."

"…That's supportive." Terrany sullenly replied.

"You asked, I answered." Rourke took a long swig of the beer. Good and cold. "Is that why you came here, McCloud? To swap childhood memories?" He paused when she glowered, and made a hasty correction. "Sorry. Terrany."

"Maybe I thought you needed somebody to talk to for a change. After all, Rourke, you were the one who didn't give up on me when everyone at Ursa said I was just a burned out mess."

The wolf thought about that, tracing a claw under his snout. "If memory serves, I insulted your piloting skills and called you a coward to make you stay."

"Whatever works." Terrany managed a sip and balanced the half-empty can between her clenched knees. "So talk."

Rourke chuffed and took another drink. He wasn't about to follow that directive.

Terrany seethed under a full sixteen seconds of silence before she drained the rest of her can and smashed it flat on the table in front of them. "It wasn't my fault."

Rourke blinked. The sudden switch of her topic left him confused. "What?"

"You asked me…about the Air Show at Husky Field. The one that got me kicked out of the Academy?" Terrany's lips tightened, and she stared him down. "I was supposed to pull a low-altitude Cobra maneuver while my classmates would do a Hammerhead turn and crossover underneath me before I dipped down through their exhaust trail." Terrany lifted her legs up and sat her feet on the edge of the chair, pressing her knees against her chest. "The show'd been slow until that point, so I inverted and pulled Negative Gs going into the Cobra. They panicked and slowed their approaches. I was _dead on_, Rourke, and they screwed it up. By the time I was dropping down, I realized I was going to crash right into them."

She shook her head, old bitterness returning. Terrany looked out of the Mess's large window, letting it flow out of her. "I did the only thing I could do…I righted myself, set the thrusters to afterburn, and tried to veer clear of them. They managed to move out of the way, but instead of passing through their fumes, since they screwed up the timing, I passed through their jetwash. The engines flamed out, and I was left with two choices; crash it in the stands or crash it into the control tower. I aimed that Dynamo away from the crowd and popped the ejection seat. The rest…"

She held a hand in the air, waving it flippantly before letting it drop back down. "Of course, the review board and the press didn't see it that way. They hung me out to dry." Terrany looked at Rourke. "And then you guys all gave me a second chance. A chance to prove I really was the best. So…thanks."

Rourke stared at her without saying anything, which left her feeling very awkward. She turned back towards the window. "Well, this isn't going how I planned." She muttered.

A heavy, warm weight settled on top of her head, and fingers scratched the fur around her ears. Had she not been shocked, she might have purred under the attention.

"You're welcome." Rourke said, and pulled his hand back.

Terrany mustered a weak laugh. "What, that's it? I showed you mine, Rourke, aren't you going to show me yours?"

"My _what?" _Rourke demanded.

Terrany didn't bat an eye. "Your big dark secret. What got you to fly for my brother in the first place. All you've given me so far is that he saved your life. And if I was going to level a guess…I'd say it has something to do with what happened earlier today. What Captain Hound said about you."

Rourke thought about it for a while, and decided it couldn't do much harm. He polished off his first can of beer and reached for a second. "When anyone else would have shot me on sight, your brother refused to pull the trigger. He was the one who convinced Grey to let me in on Project Seraphim too. So as far as I'm concerned, everything I'm doing is just sad attempts to work off a debt that'll never be even. I'll lead this team because I have to…but I'm not your brother, Terrany. I'm not the commander he was."

"You want my advice?" Terrany countered. Her superior officer glanced over at her. The vixen gave her head a shake. "Don't try to be. All my life, people've been telling me I should act more like Carl. It never fit right. Take a page from my book: Be yourself, and tell anyone who doesn't like it to piss off."

Rourke gave a thankful nod. "I guess maybe it's a good thing I'm not drinking alone after all."

Terrany punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Wiseass." Rourke guffawed a bit. Terrany popped open her own second can and stared over the top of it. "You know, though…Skip always took the deaths of his teammates and comrades hard too. Maybe there's a part of you that's like him after all."

Rourke raised his can up at that, and Terrany lightly tapped it with her own.

"It never ends." Rourke observed, turning for the solace of the window again. After a brief pause, Terrany did as well.

In the darkened Mess Hall, she and Rourke O'Donnell finally came to an understanding.

The world kept spinning.


	16. Team Building

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: TEAM BUILDING

**Burnout Class Atmospheric Fighter-** _(Comparative descriptions are based on data acquired from the Primal craft database located after the Siege of Corneria)_ The Burnout is an atmospheric air superiority fighter jet, with handling characteristics similar to that of the Model A Arwing. Top speed pegs out at Mach 4, but the Burnout functions best in a dogfight. Substantial shielding makes the Burnout a tough plane to crack and reinforces it somewhat during High-G maneuvers, but as it lacks Gravity-Diffusive devices, Burnout pilots are considered elites.

**(From Wyatt Toad's personal logs)**

"_**They gave Dana a hard time, but these Burnout fighters wouldn't last a second in an even fight. Terrany blew through that squadron on Venom like they were nothing, and then outflew their commanding officer. I could have built a better jet in **_**SIXTH GRADE!"**

**

* * *

**

_Cornelius AFB_

_4 Days Since the Primal Invasion_

"OW!"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt if you'd stop _moving_ so much!" The doctor pulled her electroprobe away from Wallaby Preen's thigh and checked the devices' monitor. "Reflexes seem okay. We'll just finish up the rest of these tests quick and you can be back out the door."

"Well, hurry it up then." The rookie pilot complained. "The Captain's been breathing fire since his run-in with that O'Donnell guy yesterday, and I don't want to be late and set him off again." The marsupial tugged forlornly at a suction cup stuck on his forehead. "Do we really need all these?"

The old red-furred panda gave him a surly expression. "Keep it on, boy. I'll let you know when…"

The machine beside the exam table beeped, and the physician gave it a quick glance. She blinked a few times, seeming a bit surprised. The break in her grouchy tone made Wallaby worry suddenly.

"Everything all right, doc? I'm not growing a tumor in my ass, right?"

"Eh?" The doctor glanced back at him and shook her head. "No, no. No, you're fine, son. The rest of your biometrics came back clean." She painstakingly removed all the wireless sensors and patches from his body. "Go ahead on, I can write the rest of this up without you."

"Well, all right then!" Wallaby cheered. He hit the floor and dashed out of the medical ward without a look back.

The panda scrutinized the readouts more carefully for several seconds, then sighed and reached for her cane. "It's Hell getting old." She muttered under her breath. A few more seconds of movement gave her a flashstrip with Wallaby's examination data, and armed with it, she headed for her workstation.

She copied the data to her medical server on reflex, then opened up a hardline communications circuit to the base operator. The light on the small digital camera above her flatscreen flickered on as a window displaying the operator's image appeared onscreen.

"Base switchboard. Oh, it's you, Doctor…"

"Yes, I know." The physician cut off the eager young pup. "Do we still have that secure IR line to the _Wild Fox_?"

"Why, yes, I think so. They've slowed their orbital speed to hold position over Corneria City."

"Good. I want you to patch me through to them…the call's for Dr. Sherman Bushtail."

"Okay, I'll set it up for you." The image went into a "Please hold" pattern for half a minute while the base operator made the necessary connections.

The image of a yawning simian replaced the busy signal in a sudden blink, and the doctor aboard the orbiting spacecraft made a sleepy greeting. "Bushtail here. Who's calling?" He blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes, then did a double take as he paid attention to his own viewscreen. "Zhen? Is that you?" He sat up a little straighter and mustered a weak laugh. "I haven't heard from you for a year! Where the devil have you been keeping yourself?"

"Retired. Or at least I was until this mess got started." Zhen grumbled. "They recalled everyone back to active duty that they could. They have me on base down here at Cornelius."

"Well, I may have to break away and come visit you, if they ever give me some time off from work."

Zhen scratched at her chin. "Actually, that's why I was calling. I didn't believe you when you told me you were working on a new project, but these Seraphs they've got now…Well, you weren't talking out of your ass."

"What, you want in on Project Seraphim? Now that it's public, I could probably put in a good word with Grey, have him…"

Zhen held up a hand to the camera, and Dr. Bushtail cut himself off. Zhen gave him a look and shook her head. "Look, I was the one who _taught __**you**_ how to be a doctor. I'm done with the whole space ace business. I just had something I wanted you to take a look at quick."

"Yeah, sure. You sending me a file?"

Zhen's fingers danced across her keyboard. "Working on it. It's the data from a physical I just finished with; one of the Arwing pilots that your new Starfox team rescued at Aquas."

"Really?" Dr. Bushtail's curiosity sounded piqued, and he watched the transfer bar of the medical data finish its run. "Anything in particular I should be eyeballing here, boss?"

Zhen smiled; he hadn't called her that in a very long time. "Just follow his EEG for me, and tell me that I'm not paranoid here."

"Uh-huh. Give me a bit here, I'm looking at it now."

Sherman looked down away from the camera and scanned his monitor. Zhen waited patiently for him to finish…less patiently, once he inhaled deeply and looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Zhen prodded him.

Dr. Bushtail glanced at the camera. "Who did you say this guy was?"

Zhen smiled.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Command Planning Center (Bridge Conference Room)_

Milo and Dana were already seated and waiting after the summons from General Grey, but neither Terrany nor Rourke had arrived. Of course, the General wasn't there either yet. Wyatt sat at the end of the table, absentmindedly fiddling with an oversized datapad and a tablet pen, muttering numbers to himself every so often before hastily scribbling in a few more lines and equations.

Dana had been staring at the engineer for a good long time before she finally opened her mouth. Milo silenced her with a soft grunt and an easygoing gaze. "You really want to hear his answer?" Dana's mouth snapped shut. The raccoon smiled casually and stared back up at the ceiling. "Not like Rourke to be late to one of these briefings. Guess he couldn't sleep after what that Captain Hound said to him."

"Maybe." Dana conceded. The tigress drummed her claws on the table. "It feels like he's changing on us."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Well, he used to be this hotshot all the time, kind of like Terrany was. But ever since we found the _Wild Fox_, he's been more subdued…withdrawn."

"The kids, they grow up fast these days." Milo drawled. "Relax. If his personality is changing, I don't think it's for the worse. Although, if he's much later, I'll…"

The doors opened, and Rourke and Terrany wandered inside. Both of them looked remarkably refreshed, and Rourke carried an armful of fruits while Terrany balanced a travel holder of hot beverages.

"Morning, team." Rourke bent over the table and deposited his cornucopia. He righted himself and smiled at Milo and Dana. "Sleep well last night?"

Dana blinked at the unusually cheerful wolf. "Okay…what did you do with the real Rourke?"

Rourke's smile dropped immediately. "What do you mean by that?"

"Relax, Rourke." Milo shushed him. "We're just not used to seeing you saunter in all sunshine and rainbows."

"I'm not _that_ grouchy…"

"Actually, Rourke, this is probably only the fourth time I've seen you smile since I met you." Terrany observed. She pulled out the cardboard cups and set them in front of the others. "We stopped by the Mess on the way up. Pugs was doing quiche, so we opted for the continental buffet this time around. I hope tea's all right with everyone, they'd run out of coffee."

"How the Hell do you run out of coffee?" Wyatt groused, offering the first indication that he'd been keeping pace with the conversation. He still didn't look up from his work.

"Take it easy, genius." Said Dana. She grabbed one of the cups of tea and cracked it open, breathing in the warm scent. "Tea's better for you anyhow. Mm. Black with lemon?"

"Different strokes." Milo took up his own and nodded gratefully to their tardy squadmates. "Thanks. We'll probably need the pick me up, for what's ahead of us today."

"So you've heard what the meeting's about, then?" Terrany asked. She slid into her own seat, eager for answers. "Another mission, maybe?"

The ring-tailed raccoon shrugged. "Could be. We hit Venom, then went to Aquas less than 24 hours later. And Arnold Grey's the kind of commanding officer who likes to strike while the iron's hot. Still, that doesn't explain why sir mumbles a lot is here."

"Heard that." Wyatt grunted. He flicked his tongue out like a whip and grabbed hold of an apple from the fruit pile. As the air cracked from the sudden move, he snaked the object back into his mouth and started to chew thoughtfully. "Ahm yer logishticks guy, rumumbr?"

"Well said." Rourke commented dryly. "Speculating won't do anything besides make us worry, so we might as well relax and wait in…" He flinched when Wyatt let out a warbling belch, "…quiet."

General Grey finally made his appearance, ending the awkward moment. Milo tossed him a salute, but the others only nodded, if they noticed him. The old dog squinted at them as he went to his own chair. "Don't you all come to attention at once, now."

"You were a little late, general." Rourke pointed out, getting an early start on the _tete a tete_ with their commanding officer. "Quiche give you stomach problems?"

Grey gave the pilot a hard stare. "_YOU_ give me ulcers, O'Donnell. Unfortunately, something else has been keeping me up nights." He sat down and reached for a pear from the stack of fruit. "Okay then. First off, I'd like to congratulate you all on a job well done yesterday. In spite of our losses, we rescued nearly 200 Cornerian personnel and won a victory that raised morale. Public support is fully behind Project Seraphim…your raising the emblem of Starfox from the pages of history gave them a rallying point."

Rourke eased back in his chair and turned his chin over his shoulder. "And now, the gutpunch." He whispered to Terrany. The albino vixen gave him a dubious glance before turning back to General Grey.

Grey raised a remote and dimmed the room lights, activating the portable holographic display in the table. "Of course, the Primals have been keeping busy themselves. The boys down in SDF Intelligence have been reviewing the data that the Godsight Pods brought back from your Venom raid, and adding it to what we know about their physical structure and combat capacity."

An image of a Primal flickered to life, rotating above the table. "Genetic testing showed the presence of several major genetic similarities between the deceased Primals from the Cornerian attack and our own simian breeds here in Lylat. In short, team, we've been fighting our long lost cousins."

_"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"_ KIT exclaimed.

Terrany clapped a hand to her ear. "Shut _**up**_, Falco." She hissed. General Grey paused as the entire table turned towards her.

"You hearing voices, McCloud?" Grey rumbled.

"Sorry, sir." Terrany apologized. "Kit's been listening in on the conversation through my earpiece."

"You know," Wyatt said, perking his head up from his diagrams, "I could deactivate the Cornite power cell for a while, give you some peace and quiet."

_"You tell that flipper-footed gearhead to keep his damn hands to himself!"_ KIT snapped. Terrany blasted out a guffaw before she contained herself, waving off Wyatt's concerned look.

"No, it's fine, Wyatt. Thanks for offering. I needed the laugh."

"If you're all done passing notes, kids, I'd like to finish this briefing before lunch." Grey harrumphed. "You could stand to have _some_ military discipline." When no one protested, he pulled his corncob pipe from his coat's breast pocket and twirled the stem between his fingers. "To make matters worse, it seems that their boast of coming to "Reclaim" the Lylat System is spot on as well. There's been ancient ruins on Venom, not to mention other worlds, that archaeologists have tried to figure out since we first reached the wasteland. It seems that they belonged to whomever the Primals descend from. Intelligence came to _that_ sterling conclusion after snapshots taken from the upper atmosphere of Venom showed an intensive digging effort."

Grey clicked his remote and one of the photos flashed to center stage. A very large, saucer-shaped craft of obsidian shades poked into the air from two hundred meters deep.

Terrany's blood ran cold. Some might not have recognized the shape, but every soul of Katina remembered its outline.

"While you were dogfighting with their defense squadrons and destroying the Secondary Command Center, seventy-five kilometers away, the Primals were excavating this whale. The shape and configuration is similar to an attack craft that Andross used on the Katina frontline base during the Lylat Wars. Only this one is much larger…and probably won't be as easy to blow up."

_"Son of a bitch."_ KIT uttered, shaken. Though he couldn't see the picture, he could hear its description with crystal clarity. _"Andross was a mad genius, but General Pepper always said that the Saucerer was even beyond his skills to make from scratch."_

Terrany swallowed. "At least now we know where he got the idea." She answered, wincing when she realized that her reply seemed out of place to the others at the table. "Sorry. Kit again. So the Primals are digging a doomsday ship out of the ground, one they knew was there, which has probably been there for forever. So we attack it, put it out of its misery, and keep going."

"Not an option right now." General Grey quickly dismissed the idea. He stopped twirling his pipe and stuck it in his mouth. "Our long ranged satellite network has been tracking the Primal presence around Venom. They've drastically increased their defenses since your raid. Any attack on Venom would be tantamount to suicide, without a large force backing you. And that's something we just don't have yet."

"I don't know how comfortable I feel, knowing that the Primals are sitting on a weapon like that and we're not doing anything about it." Dana protested. "The Seraph was designed to be Arspaces' premier frontline attack craft. It can fly circles around anything, and…"

"Makes a terrific paperweight when it's got more holes in it than a slice of Moess Cheese." General Grey cut off the test pilot's protests. He whistled sharply towards Wyatt, causing the amphibian to jerk back. "Speaking of Dana's Arwing, Wyatt, your boys finish patching it up?"

"Guwhat?" Wyatt blinked a few times, sorting through his thoughts. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Dana's Seraph, right. Ulie had his crew pull an all-nighter replacing the busted components and patching up all the holes. The shield emitters needed a complete overhaul, but they got it done. They're all sacked out and dead bushed right now, though." He resecured his billed hat. "I just hope you weren't planning on putting it through the ringer again anytime soon. We're animals, after all, not machines."

"Oh, I think you can take the day off to dream up whatever kind of crazy gadgets you feel like." Grey clicked the holographic display off, and the room lights came back up. "As if I could stop you."

Rourke and Milo shared a laugh at that, and the green tint in Wyatt's skin deepened. Grey went on, ignoring the exchanges' humorous effect. "Even though the rest of your team's sacked out, Wyatt, you won't be. I just got word that Arspace Dynamics is sending up a shuttle of equipment and personnel to dock with us. It seems that the _Wild Fox_ is going to get some kind of sensor equipment upgrade, and I want you supervising them, since you've spent the most time poking and prodding inside of this ship."

"Shoot, you're just now hearing about that?" Wyatt scoffed. "Hell, Grandpa Slip told me two days ago they wanted to send up the MIDS prototype."

"The what?" Dana asked, before Milo nudged her sharply in the ribs. The tigress caught herself and waved off his incoming explanation. "Never mind, forget I asked."

Grey pocketed his remote and looked back to the team. "Our _esteemed ruling body_ has demanded a demonstration of the Seraph's capabilities, so today's mission won't be held in Primal territory. Instead, you'll sortie and make a quick hop to the Lunar Weapons Range out on the moon."

"Say what now?" Terrany's ears perked up. "Instead of taking the fight out and freeing a conquered planet, we're moving to the Academy testing grounds to do some _wargames?"_

The general nodded somberly. "I don't agree with the call myself, but our hand's been forced on this. Parliament's Armed Forces Committee wanted to see the Seraphs in action, and they happen to control the food pellet dispenser for our rat cage."

"Our government, hard at work." Milo sighed. "As inefficient as ever."

"Standard flight pattern, team." General Grey went on, ignoring Milo's remark. "You'll launch in 2 hours. The details of your run will be given to you once you reach Lunar Base. Do us proud, Sera…Starfox."

Rourke lifted an eyebrow at the slip-up. "It must kill you to say that, sir."

"No more than watching you be the flight lead." Grey countered, gnawing on his pipe. "Dismissed."

* * *

_The Hall of Antiquity_

_Venom_

Golemechs, asleep since the ancestors had left them behind, now lurched through the stone corridors as they had long ago. The towering behemoths, each eleven meters high, turned their cubical heads left and right as they patrolled the ceremonial site. They had purpose again, and the granite guardians marched proudly to protect their charges. They instilled pride and awe in the Primals who they now protected.

To the simian Venomians that had been rounded up, they stood as bringers of terror.

The Primals had slaughtered everyone else in their sights. The reptilian and avian species, the canids and the felinian breeds had been cut down, shot down, slaughtered in the first horrific days. Even a xenophobic population of fish-descended Venomians that had risen up to stop them had been crushed, their underwater temples and homes obliterated in photonic and plasmic fire.

Now, out of a population of what had once numbered one and a half million, only 200,000 souls remained. All of them simians, who stared at the Primals and felt a terrible shudder pass through them.

It was like staring at a tinted mirror and seeing the devil underneath.

With a Golemech herding them in from behind, a batch of four hundred Venomians found themselves on a platform that jutted out over a colossal brazier alight with terrible fire. Oppressive heat rose up and made them sweat dry, baking them where they stood. Those that tried to look away from the inferno of the pit below them saw the flickering shadows of the flames dance across the walls instead. There was no escaping it.

High above them on a hovering antigravity platform, a Primal festooned in long red and black robes swept his arms up in adulation. He was one of the elites, so the prisoners had determined. Only the top of his head held any significant hair, thick and black. The rest was pink skin, repulsive to stare at. His vestments marked him as a priest, no doubt to the "Lord of Flames" that the Primals fanatically worshipped.

"My wayward cousins!" The priest shouted out, speaking as a man swept full in divine power. "For too long have you suffered under the shackles of the Lylatian's oppression. We, your kin, your _family_, have come to raise you up to the Lord of Flames. His fire will burn in you, burn through your souls, and cleanse our homelands of ALL who stand against us." The platform danced around above the crowd, swinging for maximum effect. "Fire purges all evil and sin. Out of the ashes comes new life. So it was in the beginning. So it is now with you." The hairless Primal stretched his arm down towards the captured throng, wild eyes dancing about the crowd. "_REPENT!_ Repent of your sinful ways, cast aside all your doubts, declare the Lord of Flames your one true God and the animals of Lylat your eternal enemies! This day, you have been given new life! Kneel and repent, and you shall be rewarded with the fire that burns through the cosmos without end!"

Beleaguered, downtrodden, at their wits' end, the simians of Venom shuffled where they stood, each searching the crowd of their kinsfolk for some sign. Weakness, perhaps, or sympathy to the priest's calling. Singularly, they might have reacted in a wildly different fashion. In a throng, as they were, each found it easier to wait. To let someone else make a move, to spare them the trouble. It would forever be easier to follow a trend than begin one.

And one brave simian in the crowd finally took it upon himself to do so. He raised a fist into the air and railed against it all. "Forget you, Primal! You kill our friends, our neighbors, invade our home and tell us you're _liberating us?_ You're cracked in the head. There's no damned way we could ever be related to you!" He spat on the ground for good measure, then gave the priest a lewd gesture. "You can take your offer and shove it. I don't make deals with mass murderers. And neither does anybody else here!"

The priest's eyes fell upon the defiant simian, and on reflex, the crowd dispersed away from him. To the chimp's surprise, he found himself standing alone in a hole.

And the priest pointed at him.

Before he could react, he was lifted up into the air by the towering Golemech, pinched between thumb and forefinger like a gnat. The man struggled and screamed, but the automaton held firm, bringing him up to the priest's level.

The hairless Primal scowled and shook his head. "Such fire in you already. The Lord of Flames would have welcomed you with open arms into his flock. But your fire has been tainted by the stench of the Lylatians…too much to be saved.

He gestured his arm out to the side, and Golemech casually flicked the simian in that direction. The chimp screamed as he fell downwards, on a death fall into the burning fire of the brazier beneath the crowd.

A pale hush fell over the simians as they watched one of their own shriek and howl in agony, writhing as his clothes and skin were burned away. Finally, mercifully, the charred husk stopped moving, and the fire set to work turning the lifeless body into ash.

Moving to take advantage of the shocking display, the priest opened his arms out wide. "Who else wishes to refuse the Lord of Flames' calling?"

One knelt quickly, fearful for his life.

Others nearby followed. And in moments, like the terrified crowd that they were, every last simian in the assortment knelt, some weeping, some praying. Some staring up at the priest and remembering that ingenuine smile of grace.

The hairless Primal clapped his arms together, pleased. "Welcome, brothers. Now you become one of us."

* * *

Captain Telemos watched the display with impassionate eyes. He had known that there would be a push for converts, but the relative passiveness of it was different than other conquests had been.

Ordinarily, the priest would have had one soul in the crowd tossed into the fires before he even began his speech. Perhaps their long-lost cousins required a softer touch.

He shook his head and kept walking on, for the priesthood was not his calling. He, like his grandfather and father before him, was a maker of war, a bringer of battlefire. Defeated by Terrany McCloud, the white vixen, he had been given a second chance by the Tribunes to serve the cause. In a culture where second chances never happened, he swore he was not about to waste his. It was, after all, the only way he could regain his family's name and honor.

The Primal finally reached his destination within the Hall of Antiquity. A large, expansive chamber carved into the side of a mountain stood hollow, with pillars of the same stone having held the chamber in pristine condition since long before. A large, straight tunnel connected the cavern to the outside, exposing the hazy green air of morning daylight. The fog would burn off and turn the sky a burnished sienna later on.

"Captain!"

Telemos quit his sightseeing when a running figure captured his attention. He smiled broadly as he recognized the Primal. One of his pilots; Nomen "Nome" Freidrich. Tinder 3.

Nome came to a stop in front of him and proffered a quick, but respectable salute. "Captain Fendhausen, it's good to see you again."

Telemos's smile was stolen away. "No. It's just Captain Telemos now, Nome. I've been stripped of my family name."

Nome blanched. "Sir? But why?"

"Because we failed." Telemos brushed past his wingman, walking intently towards a cluster of personnel surrounding a flight of four draped ships. "And second chances never come cheap." Nome quickly caught up to him, and Tinder 1 set his arms behind him as he marched. "Tell me, are Saber and Flint still with us?"

"Yes, sir." Nome responded. "After the debriefing, we were all put back in the same room. For a while, we thought we were waiting for our executions, but then they told us to report to the Hall of Antiquity. Do you know what's going on, then?"

"Yes." Telemos smiled thinly. "The Primal Armada still needs us. As the only ace pilots who have survived an encounter with Starfox, they intend us to be the spear."

Tinder 2 and Tinder 4 came to attention as their flight lead approached. Telemos threw them each a salute as he joined the throng by the covered ships. The Primal technicians glanced up briefly before returning to their work.

Telemos clasped his hands on the shoulders of Saber and Flint. "Lashal. Vodari. How grateful I am to see you both alive."

"And you as well, sir." Lashal Orrek, or "Saber" by callsign, replied. Like Telemos, Lashal was a veteran with more experience than most. He had cut his teeth on the Corrushite Assault, where he and Telemos had first met. "It seems that the Lord of Flames still has a use for old warriors like us."

"More likely that the Tribunes do." Captain Telemos answered gravely. He glanced up at the nearest shrouded airframe and frowned. "Have they modified our Burnouts? The silhouette is wrong."

"Actually, Captain, these aren't Burnout fighters at all."

Tinder Squadron turned about as one to address the new speaker. An Advanced Primal, hairless save for a well groomed tuft of orange hair atop his pale pink head, marched crisply and stopped six feet short of them all. According to the markings on his uniform, his rank was that of Justicar.

They saluted, not only because of his military rank, but his higher genetic development. The Justicar smiled at them and gave a quick salute. "At ease, pilots. You may address me as Justicar Maelstrom." He opened up a file he had kept tucked under one arm. "And you would be the infamous Tinder Squadron. Tinder 1, Captain Telemos, flight lead. Tinder 2, Lashal Orrek. Callsign Saber. Tinder 3, Nomen Friedrich. Callsign Nome. Tinder 4, Vodari Wexlin. Callsign Flint." He snapped the file shut. "As of today, Tinder Squadron no longer exists."

The four pilots were too stunned to utter a complaint. Justicar Maelstrom seemed either not to notice, or care. He glanced past them and towards the aircraft. "As matters stand, your existing Burnout aircraft do not have the versatility, range, or mobility to do battle with the Arwings of Starfox. The Burnout's atmospheric limitations kept you locked into a defensive role…they had to come to you. That won't be the case from now on. The Tribunes have decided to put our most experienced pilots behind the controls of our newest spacecraft. You won't be flying Burnouts, gentlemen. To take the battle to the Arwings, you need something that can move at their level…and beyond."

Justicar Maelstrom gestured to the work crews, and they quickly pulled the tarpaulins away to reveal the fighters beneath.

The ships took Telemos's breath away. The Arwings had been angular, majestic, strong lines of blue and silver and white. What stood before him shook him to the core.

The nose of the craft was forked, sporting a vicious looking cannon underneath the belly of the craft that jutted the barrel out into the opening at the prow. Short, stubby stabilizer fins stretched out a third of the way back along the nose. They each carried ports evident of a pair of embedded laser cannons, for a total of four. The wings of the ship were folded forward, with angled wingtips that pointed towards the nose. There was evidence of hinging, which Telemos surmised would give the ship a diamondlike shape when they were fully retracted in. At the back, a trio of menacing vector thrust nozzles capped the ship's main engines, which surrounded an ominous glowing red engine at their center. There was not a hint of softness to be found in them. The ship before them, black polished to a reflective obsidian shine with blood red fire stripes, was sharpness and death.

Justicar Maelstrom let off a smirking chuckle, and Telemos came back to his senses. "I know. She's a beauty to behold, and we don't even know the extent of her true abilities yet."

Saber pointed to the eerie pulsing red engine at the stern's center. "What in Flames' name is that supposed to be?"

"One of your secret weapons." Maelstrom reassured him. "Long lost technology that our archaeological teams dug up deeper in the Hall of Antiquity. The funny thing was, they said that it looked like someone else had tried to excavate it before they got there." He brushed the unsettling development aside and pushed on. "Your standard NIFT-24 Slammer missiles won't function in the void, so we've upgraded your arsenal."

Telemos walked over to one of the ships and gently stroked its fuselage where he could reach it. "Don't tell me. Coronas?"

"NIFT-29 Coronas, yes. And more than you'd think this ship could feasibly carry."

Flint and Nome raised their eyebrows incredulously, and the Justicar merely smiled wider. "There was much that the ancestors had that we lost over time. Our engineers have been working on this ship for years, and they kept it modular in the hopes that we would be able to uncover the ancient technologies and integrate them."

"That would mean that you were working on these ships while we were still sailing through the stars." Telemos realized. "But…how did you know that they would be needed?"

Maelstrom shook his head. "The Lord of Flames told us to prepare."

Saber cleared his throat. "These craft, Justicar. What do we call them? And what do we call ourselves, if Tinder Squadron is disbanded?"

The polish of the four spacecraft seemed to draw in the light of the cavern, darkening Maelstrom's face as he spoke.

"By the will of our Lord, you have been resurrected. You will fly on wings of blood and darkness, bringing fires wherever you go. You fly as the Phoenix. The ship. The squadron."

Captain Telemos, now Phoenix 1, felt a shiver run through him again.

This time, it did not come from fear.

* * *

_Lunar Weapons Range_

_Lunar Base_

_Corneria's Moon_

Colonel Bruce Cherrickson didn't particularly enjoy hobnobbing with dignitaries, and he especially despised waiting on them hand and foot. It was one labor he thought he could avoid by taking on the desolate posting. Now the red squirrel didn't even have that.

He kept his expression neutral as the visiting government official paraded around the control room like it was his personal office. He even hid the tic when the stuffy ferret set his bone china cup of coffee down on top of a very sensitive computer monitor. "Are you comfortable, Senator?"

Senator Buckland Zemus tilted his head fractionally upwards. "As much as one can be, in a place like this. You could stand to raise the temperature a few degrees."

Colonel Cherrickson let his retort slide unspoken. "The Starfox Team should be arriving soon, I believe."

"Good." Senator Zemus snapped, picking up his coffee again. A bit splashed out of the side and splattered against the console's top, unnoticed by the self-involved bureaucrat. "I have a report to write on this when they finish, and I'm expected at a fundraising banquet upon my return tonight. My time is valuable."

_And ours __**isn't?**_Cherrickson stormed inside of his head.

The radar control officer lifted his ears up. "Sir, the four Seraph Arwings have just entered lunar airspace."

"Copy that." The radio control officer added. "They're hailing us. Putting up the channel."

The voice of Rourke O'Donnell came in crisply, as did the image of him secure in his cockpit. _"Lunar Base, Starfox is coming in. Requesting vectors."_

Colonel Cherrickson smiled. He toggled the communications switch on his armrest and clipped into their frequency. "Glad to have you, Starfox. The scope's clear, so drop to 2500 meters and head for the Range on bearing 280."

Senator Zemus cleared his throat, putting his presence up on notice. "Starfox, this is Senator Zemus. I'll be observing your trials today for a report to the Armed Forces Committee. Be sure to impress us now."

_"So this was your bright idea, then?" _Terrany chimed in. Her picture was less restrained in her irritation than Rourke's had been. _"Just so the record's clear, I think this is a stupid idea. We've got troopers out there in Lylat dying, to say nothing about the people trapped on all the conquered planets!"_

Zemus's feigned good cheer left him quickly. "I'll be sure to make a note of that. But right now, the public wants to know about the new Starfox team and their Arwings. After all, we should know what we're paying for. It's transparency. Considering Slippy Toad constructed a top secret, highly advanced, and _illegally armed_ ship without anyone knowing about it which you're now using as your home base, I think you can understand the need for a little openness."

_"Just not too much, though." _Milo warned the politician. _"Public knowledge can be a devastating weapon when the enemy hears of it."_

"That's been factored in." Senator Zemus said firmly. "Now, go on. I'll be watching you from the control room here with great interest."

* * *

"I haven't flown here since I was in the Academy. Still looks the same, though." Terrany said. She swiveled her head and looked through the canopy to Rourke, flying on her left and at the front of their formation. "You ever been here before, lieutenant?"

"No." Came Rourke's easy reply. "I did my learning on the job."

_"Starfox, this is Range Control. Please keep your comms chatter to a minimum."_

"He doesn't know us very well, does he?" Dana smirked.

"I never could get you all to shut up." Milo chimed in, insulting all three of his wingmen at once.

The range control radioman chuckled a bit. _"All right, all right. Listen up, Starfox. Today, you'll be running the testing grounds. We have specialized secondary courses set up for you all, but we're going to start with the standard Rings Run."_

As the four Arwings banked towards the entrance of the training grounds, giant metallic flight rings rose up from the surface. The neon green glowstrips along their outer surface turned on as they started spinning.

_"The Rings Run is pretty basic. We'll be evaluating the handling characteristics of the Seraph and your own response times. There are 100 rings on the course that you need to fly through. Every time you pass through a ring, your IF/F beacon will tag that ring's RFID device for confirmation. Afterwards, you will separate for your secondary objectives. Any questions?"_

Terrany thought for a moment before she smiled. "Say, Rourke, we never did find out who the better pilot was, did we?"

Rourke caught on quickly, and the idea thrilled him. "No, we didn't. I suppose you want to make this a little more interesting, then?"

Terrany clicked her mike twice in the affirmative. "Range Control, what's the course record for the Rings Run?"

_"Two minutes and seven seconds…by Captain Carl McCloud in a Model K Arwing."_

"Of course." Terrany muttered under her breath. It stood to reason that her brother's old time would still be standing. She had never been able to beat it herself…

Of course, she'd only been flying in the Academy training spacecraft before. Now, in a Seraph?

"All right, Rourke. Two minutes and seven seconds. Want to see if you can inch out ahead?"

"What am I racing against, Terrany?" The wolf asked humorously. "You, or the clock?"

Terrany slid the throttle bar up a few notches beyond standard thrust and retracted her wings in to interceptor position. The combination edged her just in front of his nose. "Both." She answered.

_"Starfox, you are cleared for the run. Good luck out there."_

Rourke kicked his thrusters up, and pulled even with Terrany. Flying side by side, the two daredevils gave each other a cocky, triumphant grin.

"Ready?" Terrany asked, turning her head forward.

Rourke stared straight as well, forming a path in his mind's eye to the sixth ring of the sequence. "GO!"

They pushed their engines to maximum and left a trail of blazing blue thruster dust in their wake.

"Why do those two have to act like children?" Dana sighed, starting her run at a more leisurely pace.

Milo fell in behind the tigress, harrumphing as he did. "Because they are, Dana."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Cornerian Orbit_

_General Grey's Ready Room_

"I'm telling you, general, the readings are indisputable." Dr. Bushtail exclaimed.

Brigadier General Grey leaned back in his seat, dumbstruck by it. "And how come he wasn't identified earlier, then? Project Seraphim reviewed the EEG readouts of every Arwing pilot when we first started up."

"From what Zhen told me, this kid's a rookie." The simian physician explained. "He must have come in after we did our pilot check."

"And by some stroke of dumb luck, another Arwing pilot with the synaptic constitution to handle the strain of Merge Mode just happens to appear from the squadron we fished out of Aquas." Grey exhaled loudly and reached for his pipe. "Mind if I smoke?"

"I'm a doctor, not a life counselor." Bushtail waved a hand in the air with a roll of his eyes. "You want cancerous tumors in your lungs, that's your prerogative. I would appreciate it if you waited until I left, though."

"Slag it, then. I'll just chew on the stem for a while." Grey shoved the corncob pipe between his teeth and rolled it around.

"You know, Arnold, I could put you on a nicotine patch regimen. Those things are pretty effective these days at cutting down on cravings."

Grey snuffed. "When I want your help kicking the habit, I'll ask for it. Let's get back to the kid first. You're absolutely sure that he can pull it off?"

"Synaptically, yes. Mentally?" Bushtail shrugged. "I hope the kid learns fast. It might help if he had the rest of his squadron with him, though."

Grey stared out the window of his ready room at Corneria below. "Well…I was planning on telling General Kagan to let out the leash some and give us some backup. I guess we've got more reason to now. Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Sherm."

"Don't mention it." The doctor got up from his seat and smoothed out his smock. "Not every ape has an evil agenda. I'll be in my office if you need me…and think about that nicotine patch, would you? For all our sakes."

General Grey let the remark slide, and waited until the doctor was gone to key up his personal communications relay. Woze appeared onscreen, and gave a quick twitch of his whiskers. "Yes, General?"

"Patch me through to the CSC. Priority call for General Kagan."

"Right away, sir." The lynx disappeared, the call went on, and two rings later, Kagan appeared on his monitor, friendly but alert.

_"General. Is something wrong?"_

"More things than I wish I had time to talk about. For now, we'll settle for three. It's a nice, round number."

_"Only three?"_ His former protégé repeated dubiously. _"Well, now, spare the rod, why don't you. Go ahead."_

"Why in blazes do we have the Starfox team running a sortie out to Lunar Base when they should be doing strike missions to destroy the Primals? I had the good sense not to vent in front of 'em, but my pilots had the same damn sentiment."

_"With more colorful language than you like to use, I'm sure."_ Kagan said. _"Look, Arnie, the public's clamoring for information on Starfox and their capabilities. Parliament's been breathing down our necks since the day after the Cornerian Siege to get some answers, what with it being an election year and all. This was the best compromise. We spend a day letting your boys put on a song and dance for one of the Armed Forces Committee senators, they back off and leave us alone so we can keep to the business of fighting this war. I don't like it much either, but it's a better option than having to report to Parliament for special inquiry sessions every morning."_

"You think they'd put up a Creator-Damned moratorium on this posturing bullshit. We should fly all these bureaucrats out in front of the Primals, and save ourselves the trouble of a firing squad."

Kagan laughed. _"Boy, am I glad these calls are encrypted."_

"And what's with this public announcement that I picked up on the HoloNet? They _announced_ that the Arwings are going to be doing training exercises at Lunar Base today? Lylus, Winthrop, they may as well paint a big bullseye on the moon for the Primals!"

The three star in charge of the CSC winced. _"Yeah, on that count I agreed with you. We're sending out a press release in ten minutes, actually, criticizing Parliament for publicizing sensitive military information. I don't think that the Primals will catch wind of it, though, not in time to do anything about it. They don't have access to our satellite network any longer, after all."_

"I feel so reassured." Grey rolled his eyes. "Winthrop, this squadron, this ship, isn't meant to sit around and wait for mission orders to roll in. We should be blazing a trail outwards, taking the fight to the Primals. All we've been doing so far is reacting to them. We reacted to Corneria. We reacted to the hijacked satellites. We reacted to the distress beacon at Aquas. Give us the freedom to do what I know this unit _can_ do."

_"I'll think about it, general, but right now, it's an unsound political move." _Kagan warned him. _"There are a lot of Senators who believe that your Starfox team is only a few steps away from being a new breed of space pirates…and your flight leader used to __**be**__ one. They want control over Starfox, even if it is illusionary. This isn't the Lylat Wars. Project Seraphim was a military enterprise, and that means it's accountable to civilian controls. Even if your _Wild Fox_ is private property earmarked to the McCloud family."_

Grey sighed and chewed harder on the end of his pipe. He was glad that the stem had been whittled from a sturdier wood. By all accounts, it should have snapped off days ago. "I'm not saying that I'm entirely comfortable with treating Starfox as a mercenary force, but this is force mismanagement."

_ "Sorry I didn't have a more positive response for you there, sir. You said you had three complaints for me, though? You still have one more."_

"Actually, the last one isn't a complaint."

_"You're kidding. Really? I get a compliment this time?"_

"A request." Grey corrected the lynx, and Kagan's face fell.

_"Well, all right then. Short of me letting out the rope and giving you mission autonomy, what did you have in mind?"_

"Our medical doctor, Sherman Bushtail, brought something to my attention this morning. Apparently, there's an Arwing pilot down on the surface who should be able to fly a Seraph. Wallaby Preen of the 21st Squadron."

_"You're kidding. Seriously?"_

"Winthrop, when was the last time I cracked a joke?"

_"…Point taken." _Kagan leaned in closer to his screen, attentively watching. _"And I take it you want him reassigned to your command?"_

"I was thinking it might be better if you reassigned his entire squadron." Grey stretched the favor. "That way, he'd have some familiar faces while we were putting him through his paces."

_"Not to mention, give you more firepower and Arwings." _Kagan raised a hand to his face and rubbed the corners of his eyes. _"It won't be easy. The 21__st__ have been welcomed home as heroes, and besides you, they're the only Arwing squadron currently in Cornerian airspace. The rest are either grouping with the Fleet in Sector Y or still MIA elsewhere in Lylat, probably lost. Parliament won't be too keen on passing over their brand new protectors."_

"Fuck Parliament." Grey barked angrily. "I'm telling you, we need them! You want us to make a difference in this war? You want us to take the Primals down? Give us the fucking _TOOLS_ to do the _JOB_!"

Kagan pointedly lowered his hand to his ear and rubbed the interior with a finger. _"You make your point as delicately as ever. I'll see what I can do, Arnie. No promises, but…I'll definitely try."_

"Good. Call me back if anything comes up."

_"The same applies to you, sir. Take care."_

General Kagan's call ended, and the old hound in command of the Starfox team stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Now I just have to tell Wyatt we need another Seraphim Arwing built from scratch."

He reached for his pouch of tobacco, setting to work readying his pipe. He could already hear the amphibian's shrill cry of dismay.

"Gotta remember to bring earplugs this time."

* * *

_Lunar Base Command_

_"We now will be going live to the SDF Lunar Base, where…"_ The feed from CorNews Network droned from the speakers behind the camera setup that Senator Zemus's aides had set up in the command center. Running at a full boil over the stupidity of it, Colonel Cherrickson cleared his throat loudly and gave the ferret his angriest stare yet.

"I don't recall you being given permission to bring a camera crew onto my base so you could do an interview and show off _secret military facilities_ in the background, Zemus."

"I do believe you were given orders to extend every courtesy and offer your full cooperation during these tests, though." Zemus countered coolly. He stood off to the side, waiting as another of his aides touched his fur up. "You can relax. We'll turn the camera out the transparisteel windows so the background behind me is just stars and lunar landscape. But I _am_ going to be doing this interview. There will be some transparency into this project kept from public view."

"Senator, they're ready for you." The aide behind the camera said. Zemus slipped into his firm, assertive father posture and turned to the lens, and the monitor above it that showed the reporter back in Corneria City.

"All right then. Colonel, be sure that you and your men keep your voices to a reasonable volume, won't you?"

The last seconds counted down, and the red light above the camera finally came on. The reporter turned and faced his own monitor, looking at the image of Senator Zemus.

_"Senator, thank you for taking the time to speak with us today."_

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity." Zemus replied smoothly. "The public should be taking more interest in matters like these."

_"So, have you had the opportunity to meet with the Starfox team, Senator?"_

"Not face to face, no. They arrived about ten minutes ago, but have already started on their trial run. We spoke briefly over the radio, and I found them to be everything that I believed them to be."

_"Could you tell us again what their current mission entails?"_

"Today, they're running the courses here at Lunar Base, to test their Seraph Arwings. Considering that Project Seraphim was conducted entirely under the radar, and without public knowledge, the Armed Forces Committee believed it was necessary to determine their capabilities. We, the citizens of the Lylat System, deserve to know what we have, after all, been paying for. Moreover, these Arwings are the symbol of our resistance against these Primal invaders. Public interest is high, and it will not be served through secrecy."

_"And just as a reminder to those watching our broadcast, we are still broadcasting to our subsidiaries on Katina and Fichina as well."_

Colonel Cherrickson stayed as far away from the camera and Senator Zemus as he could. His second in command walked up beside him, facing away as he spoke into his superior's ear

"This is all just posturing to him. He's trying to drum up votes."

"That's the problem with politicians." Cherrickson muttered back. "They're too busy trying to get re-elected to do their damned jobs."

"…You ever think we do the same thing, going for promotions?"

"No." Cherrickson answered evenly, leaning his head back so he could meet the younger soldier's eyes. "When we don't do our jobs, people die." He glanced back at Zemus and let out a long, very quiet sigh. "Times I wish they felt the same pressure."

* * *

At the speeds they were traveling, the rings were passing by at increments of less than a second and a half apart. Instead of discouraging Rourke and Terrany, it seemed to only make them bolder. Rourke had a slight lead, which he was barely able to sustain. The ring counter on his HUD clicked up; thirty-four. Thirty-five.

"You're good, Terrany, but I'm better!" Rourke goaded her. They came into a veritable maze of mock skyscrapers that rose up from the moon's surface, and Rourke tilted the Seraph on its wingtip to bank through the narrow space between two of the solid pillars.

Laughing a bit, Terrany tossed her Arwing into a roll, ending in a bank to shoot through the same passage at the last possible second. "Now why might I disagree with that?" She challenged him. The jingle of the thirty-sixth ring teased the wolf over the communications circuit.

_"That's the way, kid! Now hold the engines steady, and make a course in your head. Don't target fixate."_

"Kit, isn't that why I have you?" Terrany grunted, spinning the craft through another space on the opposite side of the path. "You're supposed to make my job easier, aren't you?"

_"Right now, this is between you and him, kid. You want to prove you're the better pilot? Beat him fair and square."_

Terrany kicked her engines even higher, going past the recommended safe booster speeds. The ship picked up a slight vibration as the thrusters were pushed. Running on her own, she kept her eyes forward, but unfocused. Tunnel vision, or target fixation, was always a problem for pilots. Learning to not be sucked in by it took practice, but it paid off.

She saw the luminescent emerald of the glowstrips for the next five rings in the sequence, and Rourke already soaring towards them, though at a slower pace.

Terrany ignored the vibration from her screaming engines and dove down, nearly scraping the surface as she leveled out two meters above the lunar surface. Ahead of her, Rourke dove for the ring. If she could beat him to it, she'd streak past him and take the lead. If not, she'd crash into his back end.

"Incoming, Rourke!" Terrany called out, triggering the emergency boosters of her Seraph. The Arwing shot forward, and not even the G-Diffusers could keep her from being squashed against her seat. The ring came closer, Rourke came closer, and a collision seemed all but a foregone conclusion.

She blazed past him, nearly scraping the top of her canopy against the keel of the competing Arwing. Rourke let out a gasp of dismay as Terrany blasted underneath him, kicking a wash of angry blue thrusterlight against his nose and shields.

"_Frigging _Hell!_"_ Rourke cried out, struggling to level his plane out. He made it through the ring a half second after she did and turned towards the next, gnashing his teeth. "Terrany, what the Hell was that?"

"This is a race, isn't it?" She taunted him. "You're falling behind, Rourke!" She burned through the next ring, then pulled back on the stick hard to skim the bottom lip of the next.

Rourke growled and pushed his thrusters harder on. "Not for long."

**"Hey, boss, you sure you want to do that to your engines?" **His ODAI asked.

"If Terrany can do it, so can I." The wolf snapped.

No more words passed between Terrany and Rourke for the middle section of the course. They exited the mock building section and started a sweep through an artificial canyon with craggy overhangs and the rings set up so that they were forced to swerve through tight corners. Terrany kept flying as though the hounds of Hell were on her tail, and Rourke slowly crept closer behind her, making every turn as quickly as she did. The engines struggled to keep up the pace as the Arwings ate through the synthesized hydrogen fuel at a rate that the synthesis units couldn't match. Ignoring all common sense, the two swerved through the canyon to hit every ring. Their shields flared every so often from the narrow scrapes their velocity forced them through.

With 30 rings to go, they exited the canyon and into open air, where the rings no longer held stationary. They weaved back and forth, teasing the two pilots by only remaining synchronous for a margin of a second before peeling away, then doubling back again.

In the back of her mind, Terrany remembered the old lessons.

_Learn to gauge your distance to the target._

Through training and instinct, Terrany whipped to the left, then cut at a trio of shuffling rings at a hard right angle. She caught them perfectly on the pass, sinking through each before they split apart again. To her surprise, Rourke simply poured on more speed and dashed right through them without a turn at all.

Her eyes narrowed, and the dance continued.

20 rings left. Rourke eased up on the throttle for his loop through a high and low ring, and Terrany countered by sticking to his tail, pulling back even more sharply after cutting through the lower one, then rotating around in an inverted Cobra that shot her through the second. Surprised, Rourke had to bank in the middle of his loop to avoid collision, and the end result was that Terrany gained a one second advantage on him, as she shot on ahead at higher altitude while he finished out his loop and poured on the afterburners at the bottom of his maneuver.

At 10 rings to go, Rourke made up the difference, and the two flew side by side. The last ten rings were a straight shot; whoever made it through the first ring would have a clear go at the series, which were only wide enough to accommodate one Arwing's wingspan. Rourke was in better position, and slowly yawing to the left, forcing Terrany out of his way.

"You lose, Terrany." The wolf smirked.

Terrany gripped her control stick and set her feet on the yaw controls. She clenched her teeth shut, and pulled slightly up, rolling her craft to an inverted position…directly above Rourke's Arwing. He looked up, she looked down, and the white-furred vixen gave him a triumphant grin through the scant meter and a half that separated their canopies.

"No, I don't."

Holding their courses steady, the two pushed their thrusters to the absolute brink and made the engines scream as they redlined.

Nine. Eight. Seven rings.

The two no longer paid attention to the silvery hoops with their green glowstrips. Their eyes were locked solidly on each other, each defiant and daring. It had ceased to be a contest of skill. Now it was all about will, and who would flinch first.

Neither did. When the last ring chimed on their HUDs in a simple melody to signal the end of the Rings Run, they broke apart and spiraled to level flight again. Terrany let out the breath she'd been holding and stared at her canopy's display. The final time was blinking in blinding blue numbers.

1 minute and 59.86 seconds.

_"Holy mother of…that was something else. We've received your data. You two pegged out at the same finish time. Creator above, you two screamed through it! I didn't think anybody could pull the Rings Run off in less than two minutes!"_

"It's still a tie." Rourke answered easily, chuckling now that the tension had passed. Terrany and Rourke fell back into their flight pattern as Dana and Milo finished their more conservative run, posting respectable times of 2:24 and 2:27 respectively. "I guess you and me are even now, Terrany. Still, what made you think of inverting over me and riding the course out upside down? That's not in any of your textbooks, is it?"

"No, that was just good old fashioned showboating." Terrany said with a laugh. "Besides, I always like being on top." She realized the double entendre a second after it had passed her lips, but the only response she got was silence from Rourke and a gutbusting laugh from Milo.

_"All right, Starfox. We've collected your data and we're compiling it now. Looks like your Seraphs are faster than anything else we've got in the air right now, but we're going to check to be sure. Sergeant Granger, you'll be running the target range to test weapons accuracy and power. Turn to course 120, we've got a setup waiting."_

"Roger that." Milo veered his Seraph away from the others and headed for his next objective point.

_"Miss Tiger, we want to collect some data on the top speed of these things. Go ahead and set for course 270, then burn those engines with everything they've got."_

"I always did want to go fast." The tigress mused, setting out on her own assignment.

_"And as for you two screaming demons…" _The Range Control radioman paused, _"We need to get some data on how Merge Mode affects the combat performance of these Seraphs. Go ahead and Merge and prepare for a dogfight."_

"All right, who are you setting us up against?" Rourke asked.

The radioman made a nervous squeak. _"Uh…each other, actually."_

Rourke blinked. "Bullshit."

_"Afraid not. Are you two up for it?"_

Rourke gave Terrany a look through the monitor, attuned to the respective cockpit camera of Terrany's Seraph. He searched her face for any sign of hesitation.

Terrany showed only resolve and excitement.

Rourke couldn't help but smile at her eagerness. "I suppose you see this as some kind of revenge for what I pulled on Katina?"

Terrany winked at him. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to prove to you that I'm better."

The two separated and moved out a fair distance before turning around.

Rourke relaxed his breathing and centered his thoughts, feeling the familiar sting on his scalp as his mind was turned into the central processor for his ship, and his ODAI connected to him. His wings opened up into their fanned butterfly position, and when he saw through his own eyes _and_ the cameras in the nose of the Seraph, he could see that Terrany had completed her own Merge as well.

_**"Then come at me." **_Rourke dared her.

The two Merged Seraph Arwings rocketed towards each other, moving through space in their own G-Negator created antigravity bubble.

This time, there would be no tie.

* * *

_Inner Lylat System_

_1.75 CU from Corneria_

Not every ship that the Primals had was circling planets, orbiting over spheres of domination and influence. Some, like the stealth missile cruiser _Conflagration_, patrolled the corridors of Lylat seeking out unsuspecting and unwary foes to hunt down.

The captain could hardly believe his luck when his intelligence officer handed him a transcript of the outgoing communications.

"These Lylatians are such _fools._" He thundered. The intelligence officer gave a waspish smile and shrugged. "They broadcast such sensitive information freely, without regard for who will hear it?"

"Should we call this in, sir?" His Second asked, bringing the focus back to the bridge of their ship. "Command will reward our diligence."

"Negative." The captain quickly dismissed the idea, crumpling the intercept in his hand. "By the time that Command reacted to our information and sent out an attack group, Starfox would either be back next to that blasted mothership of theirs, or be warned of incoming enemies."

He bounded to his command station in three giant leaps, ready for action. "This information must be acted on immediately…and this is _exactly_ the kind of mission that the _Conflagration_ was built for. Ready for immediate departure."

"Yes, sir!" The crew responded quickly, and the captain felt a plume of pride run through him at their conditioning.

The XO took his seat beside the captain. "Shall I sound battle stations, captain?"

"Of course." The Primal commander said, drumming his fingers on his armrest. "And tell the weapons crews to load up the Mark 6 Holocaust."

The XO's eyes widened. "Sir…are you sure? We need prior authorization to fire that…"

The captain silenced his protests with a hard stare. "The Arwings of Starfox are our greatest threat. I want no chance of them surviving. I don't want even as much as a _wingtip_ left behind when the dust settles. Once we have achieved that, then the Tribunes will hoist more praise and glory upon us and our houses than we could ever dream of."

The XO swallowed, but followed his orders. He tapped his receiver and opened a line to the missile bays. "Ready the Holocaust."

The Captain stared at the front viewscreen. "Helmsman, bring us about. Chart a course for the far side of Corneria's moon. It will keep us out of sensor range of their base."

As the cruiser slipped into subspace, the captain felt a stirring of fire within him.

Glory would soon be his.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

Buford Hogsmeade watched the Arspace work crews, under the direction of Wyatt Toad, through the security monitor feed. Far away from the sensitive sensory equipment bay on the underside of the _Wild Fox's_ jutting bow, the boar couldn't help but marvel at their speed.

"It sure was nice of Arspace to let you boys come up and put the new sensor package in." The radar operator said cheerfully.

While the visiting engineers continued connecting wires and checking the programs, Wyatt looked up at the camera and grinned. _"Yeah, being the grandson of the Company's president does have its advantages, especially when my regular crew's sacked out. Just be sure you don't turn on your gear, all right? We don't want to be fried when that microconductive radar coil flips on."_

"Don't worry, I won't." Buford promised. "I'm uplinked through our optical connection with Cornelius, and I've been pulling in data from the planetary defense network, so you're in the clear. Still, it'll be nice once you're all done. That new mass spatial whatsit sounds absolutely unbelievable."

_"The Mass Imprint Displacement Scanner, yeah." _Wyatt corrected him. _"Arspace is giving us the only working prototype for testing. If it works, we'll be able to track ships even when we're being jammed or blinded. You can hide a radio signature or disperse an energy pattern, but you can't mask the gravitational indentations of ships in the fabric of space."_

_"Hey, Wyatt, I think we're all done here."_ The lead engineer on the team interrupted. _"Diagnostic pretest is coming back green."_

_"All right, let's close it up and get back to the shielded area." _Wyatt ordered them. As the workers moved out of the sensor array's guts and into the monitoring quarters, another cameria picked up the feed to follow them.

Once the last hatch was shut and locked, Wyatt gave Hogsmeade a thumbs up. _"Switch it on!"_

Buford didn't need to be told twice. He pressed the power button firmly and watched as his monitor rebooted, washing away the borrowed feed from the planetary defenses. Two seconds later, the display came up again, indicating that new hardware had been installed successfully as well as listing the enhanced performance.

The radar operator grinned, imagining the _Wild Fox_ was happily humming. It now had sharp eyes and ears to match its wicked claws and wings. The upgrade had expanded the range of even his basic radar by 150 percent, an increase made possible in the march of time and miniaturization of technology.

"Looks like the radar's working better than ever. I can almost scan out to Katina at full resolution with this!"

_"Yeah, we expected that. Go ahead and switch over to the MIDS for a bit. I want to see how Grandpa Slip's new gadget works."_

Hogsmeade hit the menu toggle and selected the new, highlighted detection mode. His console's viewscreen switched from its standard radar display of Corneria, the moon, and the Arwings to a more etheric green wire-frame laid out in a flat sheet. It dipped in several places; the largest dip being Corneria itself, which was sunk in like a pothole. Corneria's moon made a sizable impression itself, and the Wild Fox even had a small imprint in the fabric of spacetime. The planetary masses, as well as the _Wild Fox_ and the other ships in orbit, all carried a subsequent IF/F tag.

Hogsmeade whistled and dialed out the resolution, expanding his field of view. "Glory be, Wyatt, this is something else, all right. It's like looking at a big field and seeing all the footprints on it."

_"That's the idea. The MIDS scanner technology was originally built for astrometrical purposes, so we could get precise measurements of the mass of various heavenly bodies."_

"Like your mother?"

_"Leave my mother out of this!"_

Hogsmeade laughed. "Relax."

Wyatt calmed back down. _"Anyhow, the increased power output of this ship's impulse vacuum drive allows us to take the MIDS technology and scan for mass displacements as small as an Arwing. Who knew, right?"_

The radar operator shrugged and looked at his display.

He stopped when he saw an indentation in the green fabric of the Lylat System on the opposite side of the moon.

It was coming closer, faster than any natural phenomenon. And it had no IF/F tag.

Hogsmeade frowned. "That's weird."

_"What is?"_

"There weren't any anomalies in the MIDS, right?"

_"No, the picture should be perfect. What are you seeing?"_

"I'm not really sure." Hogsmeade glanced around the bridge. The General was busy in his office still, but the XO was on station. "Hey, Chief!"

The orange tomcat Thomas Dander slid across the bridge quickly, at his side in an instant. "What do you have, Buford?"

Hogsmeade tapped his screen. "Wyatt and I were testing the new scanner equipment. We picked up a ship or something coming in towards the dark side of the moon. Do we have any Black flights operating in that neighborhood?"

Dander's eyes narrowed. "I was just briefed on them earlier by the General. No, we don't."

Hogsmeade blinked and looked closer at his viewscreen. The unknown came closer.

"There's no way that thing's a meteoroid." Hogsmeade muttered to himself. "The velocity is all wrong."

_"What? What is it, Hogsmeade? What are you seeing?"_ Wyatt demanded.

Dander moved to the command chair and toggled the comms circuit to General Grey's ready room. "Sir, I think we have a situation."

_**"On my way."**_ Came the gruff response.

Buford Hogsmeade looked at the image of Wyatt in the corner of his monitor and blinked. "Tell those Arspace boys good work, Wyatt, but that they're going to be on board a while longer."

Dander stood by the command chair as General Grey stepped on to the bridge, not waiting for his superior's orders. "Updraft, break orbit and set course for the moon. Maximum sublight."

_"Why? What's going on?"_

Hogsmeade steeled his nerves as General Grey landed in his command chair and got the status report from his XO. "It looks like we've got company coming."

* * *

_Lunar Weapons Range_

For one time in her life, Dana was glad that the single moon of Corneria lacked an atmosphere. Even a thin one would have probably proven fatal at the speeds she was traveling.

Like Rourke and Terrany before her, Dana had pushed her thrusters to their absolute maximum, going beyond military power and straight into emergency speed. Given how the engines, normally at a low vibrational hum, were now at fever pitch, the test pilot had no trouble believing that the breakneck pace would have caused the Arwing to break up if she'd tried any maneuvers.

"I'll say this about the Seraphs." She remarked, for the benefit of those listening. "They can't take a lot of abuse, but they definitely move."

"That we knew." Milo said, several klicks away at his target range. He kept lobbing his shots at the different marks, steadily racking up a trail of bullseyes and the occasional vaporization from a charged laserburst. "We just never knew how much, considering."

And there in the midst of that otherwise cheerful moment, Dana remembered that the first speed test of the Seraph had been interrupted. And who they'd lost because of it.

"Sorry…I didn't mean to drag up old memories." The raccoon apologized.

Dana eased back on the throttle, giving her nerves and the ship a much needed reprieve. "No, it's all right. I've dealt with the thought of losing him." Dana sighed. "I just refuse to believe he's dead."

"You and Terrany both." Milo reminded her. "He's classified MIA. Has been for two weeks now. It must be a girl thing, you sticking to that idea."

"No, it's a belief thing." Dana reprimanded her wingman. "Carl wouldn't have gone down. Not against a ship like that."

"Then for Skip's sake…I hope you're right."

_"All right, we've collected the weapons output and speed data. Good work, you two."_

"How about the last test?" Milo asked the Range Control radio officer. "How are Rourke and Terrany holding up in that dogfight of theirs?"

The radioman laughed. _"Take a wild guess."_

_

* * *

_

The Arwing danced like nothing else could. With KIT's reassuring blue presence all around her, offering guidance, advice, encouragement, Terrany spread the wings of her ship and soared.

One of the things she had always loved about the Arwing was how its wings were always swept back, away and behind of the ship. Without an atmosphere to buffet the wings, she kept them tucked away, like she was running with her arms off to her sides.

Rourke's flying was just as impressive, but the differences between them were stark. She danced, she weaved, her movements expansive and graceful. Rourke used the power of the G-Negator to guide his craft on a solid course, minimizing his movements, as though he could conserve it for his attacks.

Defying every known concept, Terrany flew in a diving course underneath Rourke back-end first, keeping her nose trained on his ship. The Nova Lasers opened up, lancing white hot laserbolts towards him. Rourke shifted, pivoting in place so that the shots grazed him, narrowly missing as he trained his own guns down towards her. She broke out of the dive and raised up, swinging in a flat arc around him, keeping ahead of his turning rate. When he finally started to lead his shots, she spun up and away from him, corkscrewing wildly.

Her joyful laugh came unbidden, genuine. Even when the chirp of a laser lock on her ship went off, her spirit continued to soar.

_**"You're something else, you know that?" **_Rourke told her. His Arwing unloaded a full salvo of five homing laserbursts from his ship, two from each cannon inside the opened G-Negator pod and one from his nose. The green laserbursts shimmered a brilliant white and tracked in on her, picking up speed. Terrany streaked across the horizon, forcing them to turn sharply to follow her through one impossible weave after another. Through it all, she kept her own nose trained on Rourke, who leisurely floated along to watch his shots try to connect. Her own homing burst finally got his attention, and soon the two were veering in wild circles around an invisible center, channeling the attacks in nearer.

Almost as though it were synchronized, they broke off in their turns and dashed for one another. With the homing bursts hot on their heels, Rourke and Terrany angled their noses at one another in a dead run and let loose with a criss-crossing volley of Nova laserfire. Each spun in a wild series of rolls, deflecting them away as their G-Negators enhanced the shields to momentary reflectiveness. At the last, they both pulled up sharply, and the homing shots collided into one another below them. The explosion of photonic energy beneath them pushed them up even higher, and the two Arwings spun around each other, duality in thought.

_**"We're firing warshots at each other, and you're laughing about it." **_Rourke snorted. _**"What kind of pilot are you?"**_

They broke apart and spun around, facing each other, guns silent.

He could feel her unbroken smile through the inflection in her voice. _**"The kind who belongs up here. Just like you do. And Rourke? I'm still better than you are."**_

The wolf snorted. _**"How do you figure?"**_

His warning alarm went off, and he reacted at supernatural speed through the Merge, veering back as another homing burst slashed past him. It flew up another 100 meters before exploding harmlessly, leaving the wolf flummoxed.

_**"That one almost got you." **_She grinned. In her mind, in the machine, Falco let out a triumphant whoop.

_**"Son of a…when did you fire that one o…" **_Rourke paused, and his mind recalled the Arwing's sensor logs.

At the end of their head-on faceoff, Terrany had fired a burst downwards during her last roll. In the confusion of dodging and firing, Rourke had missed it.

_**"Nice trick, but you still missed me." **_He snapped irritably. _**"Which means that you're not better than I am yet."**_

_** "All right then. Why don't we finish what you started on Katina, **__O'Donnell__**?"**_

_** "Music to my ears, **__McCloud.__**" **_He growled.

_"I'm afraid we'll have to cut your duel short, Starfox." _Range Control suddenly cut in. _"We've been advised to keep your time in Merge Mode limited, and you're both already pushing four minutes. Go ahead and resume normal flight mode. We've got enough data here to keep the Armed Forces Committee chewing its nails for weeks."_

Rourke growled softly, but complied with the order. His secondary wings retracted back in, the G-Negator pods became solid once more, and the easy speed of thought access to the ship's systems and sensors vanished with the replacement of a sharp twinge of pain. Terrany followed suit, grimacing even more than he did from the shift back to being in her own body, instead of having the entire ship be her form.

"Next time, Terrany." He promised, as they went back into formation beside each other. His smirk held a respect she saw through the disguise, and she gave him back a gentle nod and a promising smile.

"Count on it. I never did like ties."

_"Uhh…Starfox Team, we've got the _Wild Fox _ on radar, approaching Lunar Base. Were you expecting them?"_

Rourke blinked. "No, we weren't. I thought they had to stay on station around Corneria."

Terrany looked down at her diagnostics display, knowing KIT would be watching her. "Kit, switch our frequency over to the Wild Fox."

_"Done and done, kid."_

Terrany set a hand to the side of her helmet's earpiece. "Wild Fox, this is Terrany. What's going on?"

* * *

_Lunar Command_

Colonel Cherrickson listened in as the Starfox Arwings spoke with their mothership.

_"Lunar Command, be advised that we've detected an unknown vessel approaching lunar orbit. Confidence is high that it's Primal. I repeat, confidence is high." _The ship's radio operator announced nervously.

Inside the control room, Senator Zemus let out a surprised noise. "Coming here? That doesn't make any sense. The Primals completely ignored this outpost when they attacked Corneria. What's there of value here to attack?"

Colonel Cherrickson gave the pompous bureaucrat his most venomous stare yet. "The new Arwings. The ones which you announced to Corneria, and anybody else in the Lylat System who was listening, would be here."

Zemus paled. "Well. Uh…given these new circumstances, I think I should return back to Corneria City to file my report, before…"

"No. You aren't." The colonel cut him off. He swiveled his head to his second in command. "Lock the base down." He ordered.

Wartime klaxons sounded and metallic shutters descended to seal off the transparisteel windows. In the chaos, the Senator grabbed the commanding squirrel by the arm.

"Now see here! I'm a duly elected public official, acting on business for the Parliamentary Armed Forces Committee. If you attempt to threaten, or detain me, I can have you relieved of command and court-martialed faster than you can blink!"

"Standard Operating Procedure states, _Senator_, that if Lunar Base comes under attack, or is approached by unknown spacecraft, it is to be _locked down_, and no persons whatsoever are to leave, save for evacuation alone. And we're not evacuating." Cherrickson bared his sizable front teeth, honed to razor sharpness. "And I think you should be more worried about being charged with violating the Military Security Act and Treason."

_"Treason?"_ The ferret sputtered. "You can't be serious. You've gone crazy!"

"Keep holding my arm like that, you son of a bitch, and I'll show you crazy." Cherrickson threatened him lowly.

Out of steam, and in a hostile situation beyond his control, Senator Zemus let go of Cherrickson and stumbled away.

The squirrel turned his attention back to the real crisis. "_Wild Fox_, tell General Grey that I hope he's moving to intercept that thing."

_"That's an affirmative, Bruce. Starfox, hold position by Lunar Base in case this thing gets past us. We'll move closer to identify it. Colonel, do me one last favor, though."_

"Name it, General."

_"Get a hold of Kagan at the CSC, let him know what's going on. He's been trying to raise us on the comms, and I don't have time to play connect the dots with my old student."_

Cherrickson grinned. "Get this uninvited guest off our doorstop, and I'll make him a damned flowchart."

_"Roger that." _The _Wild Fox_ went silent, and Cherrickson looked to his radio operator. "Raise Cornerian Space Command, priority channel." He glanced back as security personnel arrived to secure the command center, and motioned to Senator Zemus, who looked ready to start raising Hell again. "And if he starts talking and distracts us, you have my permission to drag his ass out of here. Or shoot him."

The Senator's eyes widened.

* * *

_Primal Missile Cruiser _Conflagration

_The dark side of Corneria's Moon, 40,000 km from orbit_

"Sir, we've picked up an enemy ship on approach!" The _Conflagration's_ radar officer exclaimed.

The XO whirled about. "What? But how? We're invisible to their feeble radar equipment!"

The captain shook his head. "Either it's an expected security sweep or they have a way of detecting us besides radar. In any case, it's too late to do them any good. Those Arwings are space dust."

He drummed his fingers on his chair's armrest. "Is the Holocaust loaded?"

_"Mark 6 Holocaust is loaded and primed, captain. We're waiting on your command."_

"Set target coordinates for the base on the moon's opposite side that sent the transmissions." The captain's eyes narrowed. "And fire."

The stealth missile cruiser shuddered as it loosed its payload, the largest missile in its inventory. It only carried one Mark 6 Holocaust, but not just because that was all they could fit alongside their normal armaments.

They only needed one.

The Primal captain cackled as the lumbering missile shot towards the moon. He found himself quoting scripture from the Charred Testament.

_"For lo, I shall bring fire upon my enemies, and they shall burn as insects in a dying wheat field. All came from ashes, and all returns to it. So sayeth the Lord of Flames."_

"His word shines bright." The bridge crew intoned, on pure reflex from years of religious indoctrination. The Holocaust flew on, and inside of its shell, powered up what had ended previous wars of conquest with a single shot.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

"Holy Lylus!" Hogsmeade exclaimed. He looked over his shoulder to Wyatt, who had nearly dashed the entire distance from the sensor array's equipment housings to the bridge. He tapped a small indentation on the MIDS display that was racing away from the ship-sized object. "Wyatt, is that what I think it is?"

The lead ship's engineer narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. See the speed? Can't be anything but."

Hogsmeade swallowed. "Right. Uh, sir? General? That unknown craft just launched a missile. A big one, like…About three times as big as an Arwing."

General Grey chewed the end of his pipe harder, and winced when the stem finally snapped under his teeth. He pulled his favorite oral fixation out of his mouth and glared at it, then stowed it in his pocket. "Today's just _full_ of good news, isn't it?" He growled. "Can we lock on to it?"

"Negative, sir. It's still on the far side of the moon. We wouldn't even be able to see it without the MIDS array." His Executive Officer answered.

"Hang on a second." Wyatt frowned. He leaned in closer over Hogsmeade, almost shoving the porcine officer out of his way as he fiddled with the console's settings. "ROB, can you give me a hand here?"

Over at Weapons Control, the ancient robot turned his red-visored head towards Wyatt. "How may I be of assistance, Engineer Wyatt?"

"Yeah, how do I alter our sensor array to check for elemental decay traces?"

The robot's visor glowed brightly for a moment before dimming back to normal. "Done. Check under "Isotopic Filter" in the settings."

"Thanks, ROB. You're a damn handy fella to have aro…"

Wyatt cut himself off with a sharply drawn breath that whistled past his gums. "Ffffrick." He stumbled back and shook his head, wide-eyed and worried. "They're insane. They're absolutely insane."

"Creator damn it, Toad, are you going to stammer all day or tell us what's making you panic?" Grey demanded.

The engineer swiveled his bulbous head around, and the fear struck the old hound full in the face.

"I thought it was weird that they'd only fire one missile. It's loaded with a horrendous payload of fissionable nuclear material, General."

Wyatt swallowed as the bridge went dead quiet. "They launched a nuke."


	17. Breaking Arrows

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: BREAKING ARROWS

**The G-Bomb: **The next generation of Cornite powered munitions, the "Gravity Bomb" is restricted to use on the X-1 Seraph platform, and only during Merge Mode, due to power restrictions. When charged, the explosive operates via lock-on, impact, or timed delivery. The initial blast wave destabilizes the surrounding natural gravitational forces, creating a temporary artificial singularity. This explosive micro-singularity paradoxically draws enemies _into_ the attack, rather than pushing them away. When the micro-singularity collapses, the resulting high energy burst bombards its targets with a lethal admixture of high frequency EM waves and charged particles.

**(From Wyatt Toad's Personal Logs)**

"_**You know, implosions are always so more interesting than explosions. I'm going to have to get a hold of one of these G-Bombs myself, take it apart, and see if I can't tweak it. If there was a way to stabilize the singularity…"**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Wild Fox_

"How bad?" Grey asked Wyatt lowly.

The head engineer swallowed. "In comparison to a Cornite powered Smart Bomb…About a factor of two hundred. Give or take."

"Blasted…" Dander said under his breath.

Grey toggled his chair's communicator. "Lunar Base, be advised. They just launched a nuclear missile your way. Starfox, prepare for intercept. Set course for the dark side of the moon."

He turned to ROB. "Launch the Godsight Pods. I want clear eyes and clear communications around this rock!"

The robot gave a bob of its head and pressed a series of buttons underneath his touch screen. "GSP dispersal vehicles are launched. Do you wish moonwide coverage, General Grey?"

"I want our fighters covered. If this thing goes off while that Primal ship is launching more, our scanners are going to run haywire." Grey flinched. "Wyatt…tell me this ship is shielded against electromagnetic pulses."

"EMPs, solar flares, and cosmic rays, yes sir." Wyatt said. "Our knowledge of shield mechanics still gives us problems with gamma ray bursts, but…"

"The correct answer was YES, SIR." Grey interrupted harshly. "Updraft, bring us around to the dark side of the moon. Starfox team, get that missile. Whatever it takes. That's an order."

_"Aye-aye, general." _Milo answered for the team.

Seething, worried, doing his level best to keep a calm and collected appearance, Grey shut his eyes. "And would somebody get to my ready room and get my spare pipe before I start gnawing on my own arm?"

* * *

"They're insane." Dana remarked scathingly. "A _nuclear_ missile? How could they?"

"It's less work." Rourke said, leading the team as they turned towards their destination. "Gets the job done."

"Rourke's right." Milo agreed. "If your objective is to eliminate a base entirely, a nuclear device achieves the maximum effect with a minimum of effort."

_"They're not shooting at Lunar Base, though." _KIT growled. _"They were aiming for us."_

"Oh, perfect." Terrany groaned. "Could we blow it up with a Smart Bomb?"

"Negative. The blast would probably give the radioactive material enough energy to reach critical mass." Milo dismissed the idea. "Same for homing laserbursts. No, our best bet is to target the missile's booster and make it crash."

"Something none of us have ever done before." Rourke mused. He flared his engines to emergency thrust and set the pace for the team. "What the Hell. You only die once, right?"

"If you're lucky." Dana mumbled, following him.

In Terrany's Arwing, KIT was silent.

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

_General Kagan's Office_

General Winthrop Kagan hadn't been sleeping right since the loss of the 7th Fleet. Most of it constituted of quick catnaps taken in his reclining office chair, never far from where he needed to be. When his phone went off, he snapped to attention and grabbed it before the first ring could finish.

"Kagan." He listened attentively, and immediately wished his power nap had lasted a little longer. "Creator hang it all. How?" He listened again, then exploded. "No. _Don't_ do anything until I get there. I'm coming down now."

He slammed the phone back on the hook and tore out from behind his desk. Once clear of his office, he only had a short sprint to the elevator, and one floor later, he stepped out into the building's CIC.

"All right, what's moving?" He demanded.

"The _Wild Fox_ broke orbit a while ago and went for the moon at maximum speed. They've deployed Godsight Pods in high lunar position, but the Primal craft is still out of range." The radio operator paused. "Planetary defense fighters are being scrambled from McNabb AFB as we speak."

"Good. Tell Colonel Whitwood I want his Dynamos at the top of their flight ceilings." Kagan pursed his lips. "Any word on whether or not they're targeting Corneria as well?"

"Nothing yet. The missile's flight path suggests that the Lunar Base was the primary target, not Corneria."

The lynx rubbed at his forehead. "They were targeting the Seraphs. Not us."

"Why would they do that?" One of the CSC personnel asked.

"Because nobody's caused the Primals as much grief as the Starfox team." Kagan said angrily. "And if what Colonel Cherrickson told me is accurate…and it undoubtedly is…Senator Zemus and his idiotic broadcast interview told the Primals exactly where to shoot." He looked to his attaché. "Get me Parliament. NOW. I'm going to have that ferret's effing head on a _platter_ by the time I'm done."

"General, those Dynamos won't be much good if that Primal starts lobbing nukes at Corneria. By the time they'd be able to fire, the missile would be ten seconds from impact." His attaché pointed out.

Kagan sighed. "Yeah, I know. Unfortunately, our Arwings are busy with shot 1. Got any other ideas?"

The general's second in command considered their options. "We did just have that squadron they rescued report in at Cornelius, right?"

"Minus their Model Ks, but yeah." Winthrop nodded. "They're not much good without some Arwings, though."

His attaché smiled. "As luck would have it, sir…"

* * *

"Coming up on the target." Rourke said. His eyes flickered briefly to an icon as it flashed on the canopy's HUD, eventually going static. "The GSPs are active. I have the uplink."

"Copy that." Terrany kept her eyes on the lunar horizon, searching for the metallic glint of the nuclear missile. "Milo, do you see it yet?"

"Negative." The team's sharpshooter grunted. "But we'll see it in about a minute here. It's 600 kilometers out."

_"Starfox, can you pick up the Primal ship on your radar yet?"_

"No, it's still blocked by the moon." Dana grumbled. "Are you sure the _Wild Fox_ is up for this?"

_"If we need reinforcements, I'd be surprised." _Grey growled. _"This old ship can hold her own. Just stay on that missile."_

Rourke's radar beeped at him, using the feed from the GSPs high in orbit above them to augment his sensor range. "Got it! One inbound, confirmed at Vector 358. Let's get on top of it!"

The four Arwings boosted away towards the still distant projectile, and Milo let his ODAI handle the autopilot. The ring-tailed raccoon downloaded the live video feed from the GSPs above, watching the menacing missile rocket closer. He shook his head. "Big son of a bitch. It looks like they used compartmentalized construction, though, so we should have no…"

He squinted his eyes shut as a bright light suddenly flared around the still distant missile.

The audible groan across the IR communications feed they all shared instantly made Terrany pop her claws in preparation.

"Rourke, it just got worse." Milo spoke again.

"_How_ worse?" Rourke snapped, already bringing up his radar again.

Now, a cloud of targets flew where one solid shaft had been before. And it was dispersing.

A still image Milo sent to all of them confirmed it.

"They're using MIRVs." Dana gasped.

Even Terrany's heart fell. It was a lot harder shooting down 60 missiles than one big one.

* * *

_Cornelius AFB_

"So when exactly _will_ we receive our replacement Arwings?" Captain Hound snapped. Damer and Wallaby winced, and both were careful to look very interested in what they were doing. Given how loud their CO was speaking over the barracks phone, it was something easier said than done.

"A week. An entire frigging _week_." Hound repeated. "Oh yeah, that's _real_ reassuring. I guess in the meantime, I'll start learning how to aim spitballs!" He slammed the phone back on the hook, fuming. "Unbelievable. You think that they'd be sitting on a few dozen replacements, especially right now!"

Wallaby glanced up from his journal. "What's that, sir?"

Captain Hound walked over, grabbed the magazine out of the rookies' hand, and turned it rightside up.

"Try harder, if you're going to pretend not to eavesdrop."

The marsupial grimaced. "Sorry, sir."

"Smooth move, rookie." Damer laughed. Wallaby glared at him, but the stare had minimal effect.

Hound walked over to the window of their barracks and exhaled. "At least we were lucky enough to live through this mess."

Damer set his book down and cleared his throat. "About that, Captain. I was thinking that we should…You know, toast Argen's memory."

Hound looked over his shoulder. "Considering he never got a memorial ceremony, that sounds like an awfully good idea. When?"

Damer reached underneath his temporary bunk and pulled out a box. "Now." The strategist pulled out three shot glasses and a bottle of very dark liquid.

Hound came over to appraise the spirit. He was surprised. "Risellem? Where'd you find this? This is the 15 year vintage blend!"

"I pulled some strings at supply." Damer winked. "I figured if we were going to drink to Argen's memory, we ought to at least use his favorite fortified wine."

The squirrel poured out the drams and handed them to his squadmates. They hoisted their glasses, and Captain Hound took the initiative. "Here's to Argen. He wasn't a big fan of speeches, so I'll keep it short."

The leader of the 21st tipped his glass back and downed the liquor in one smooth gulp. Wallaby blinked a few times before he caught on. "Wait a minute. That was it?"

"As promised." Damer smiled. "Argen liked to pull that trick on us all the time. You did him proud, Cap'n." He tossed back his own, swallowed, and exhaled. "Hoo. Good kick. More, sir?"

"Please." Hound returned his shot glass. "Argen always had a…unique sense of humor, Preen. He was more than a wingman. He's what made this unit soar." His eyes darkened. "And those Primals shot his escape capsule in cold blood. That's a debt I'll be damned I leave unpaid."

A knock on the door of their temporary barracks pulled Captain Hound's eyes away from the Risellem and his vow of revenge.

Hound got up and went for the door, peering out the visor slot before opening it. A messenger from the bases' staff nodded in greetings before shoving a tri-folded letter towards his chest.

"Orders, sir." The messenger announced. "You're shipping out in four minutes."

"Where to?" Captain Hound asked, raising an eyebrow. His two surviving wingmen stood up and came closer as well. "Our K-Arwings were scrapped and we won't get our replacements for a week."

"Plans change." The messenger said firmly. "This comes from Major General Kagan at the CSC. You three are getting on a high speed transport shuttle and heading for McNabb AFB. Now. Your unit's been reactivated."

Hound unfolded the order and stared at it, not quite sure what to make of the strange situation they found themselves in.

"What's happened?" Hound asked. "Why the rush in this?"

The messenger's lips tightened for a moment. "You haven't heard, then. Lunar base has a Primal nuclear weapon enroute towards it. Runway two. They're waiting for you."

He gave Captain Hound a salute, then dashed off.

Hound clenched his fists so tightly that his claws dug into his palm.

"Wallaby, grab our gear. Damer, get the Risellem and bring it with us. We've got a mission."

* * *

They were twenty seconds out from the cloud of warheads when the situation got worse.

The cloud of sixty projectiles split apart into two groups and forked apart from each other, leaving the team stunned.

"Let me guess…Split up?" Dana suggested.

"Damn right. Milo, you're on my wing. We're banking for the right cluster." Rourke ordered. "Girls, you bank left and _shoot that storm down."_

"You sure it's safe to fire at these things?" Terrany called out. She tilted the Seraph to port and pulled back on the yoke, veering towards the wake of her targets.

"Depends on how accurate your aim is."

_"Starfox, be advised; at their current velocities, the two collections of miniature nuclear missiles will reach Lunar Base in eight and a half minutes." _Woze the lynx was apparently on duty. He maintained a calm tone in spite of the situation. _"Work fast."_

"Can you all throw down some extra support?" Rourke shot back to the Wild Fox. "Maybe you could jam those missiles."

_"Negative. Those missiles are running a pre-programmed flight path; jamming had no effect. They're not tied to the Primal missile cruiser. We'll be leaving optical communications range to deal with the main ship. You're on your own."_

"Copy that." Rourke switched to the team's private channel before he spoke again. "I was kind of expecting that."

"You're just full of optimism today, aren't you?" Milo remarked.

"Terrany outflew me and the Primals launched a nuke." The last survivor of the O'Donnell lineage snorted. "Not saying the two are connected, but it's one Hell of a rainy day."

Now diverted from one flight into two pairs, the four Arwings tore across the barren lunar landscape in pursuit of their targets. Terrany glanced out the side window of her canopy briefly to watch the twin plasma thrusters from Milo and Rourke's fighters disappear over the curved line of the moon's horizon.

With the _Wild Fox_ silent and now beyond range, and only Dana off of her starboard wing, the blackness of space seemed to close in around her ship and squeeze.

_"Get your head in the game, McCloud." _KIT said warningly. The sharp tone of her digital mentor was enough to snap her from the uncomfortable stream of consciousness. _"We've got missiles to shoot down here!"_

Terrany triggered her boosters and leaped ahead, drawing closer to the glimmering silver needles of death. "I haven't forgotten." She replied, narrowing her eyes. A twist of a dial off on the left of the cockpit's control panels narrowed the gunsight for her lasers.

It was going to take a steady hand to shoot down the storm without detonating the warheads.

* * *

_The Primal Missile Cruiser _Conflagration

The radar operator's face fell when a very large and very familiar radar signature appeared on his scopes. It was known to every monitor technician within the Armada, after all.

"Sir, it's the mothership of Starfox! It's clearing the moon's orbit and coming at us!"

The captain of the _Conflagration_ scowled; against any other ship the Cornerians had, they would have been on even footing. But the Starfox Team's mothership, on the other hand…it had engaged two _Immolation_ class cruisers above Venom on even footing, and given worse than it had taken. It had then survived battle against seven _Inferno_ class dreadnaughts while its fighters retreated to safety

Against _that_ ship, they didn't stand a chance.

"There's heroism, and then there's suicide." He grudgingly admitted. "Signal the Armada. Inform them of our actions, then prepare to retreat."

"Yes, captain." His XO barked out a repeat of the orders across the bridge, and his crew, a well oiled machine, went into action.

The captain drummed his fingers together, and nursed his hurt sense of pride about running away from their most hated enemies with the knowledge of what they had done.

The Starfox pilots would be obliterated in cleansing fires. The Cornerians would be stumbling about without their symbol.

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, the Tribunes will be pleased." He said quietly.

Eight seconds before the _Wild Fox _could enter weapons range, the Primal missile cruiser turned itself about and slipped into subspace, escaping its reach.

Their payload delivered, they lived to fight another day.

* * *

_The Lunar Surface_

Rourke and Milo had to keep the boosters on full to maintain the pace that their cluster of missiles had set. The wolf had to remind himself that the vibrations he felt even through the G-Diffuser field were just a part of his ship's twin thrusters being taxed even harder.

And they'd already gotten a workout, thanks to his duel with Terrany.

His ODAI had a more pointed complaint. **"I'm making a note for Wyatt and his engineers, boss. The engines are going to need an overhaul when we're done here. I'm picking up some serious discrepancies in the fuel rate sensors."**

"What, they didn't fix them up after Venom?"

**"They didn't have **_**time.**_**" **His ODAI complained. Rourke gripped the control stick harder and let out a sigh. The AI was right, though. After Venom, Wyatt's engineers were kept busy putting Dana's Seraph back in working order.

At least here, around the moon, there was no atmosphere for the engines and shields to fight against. Of course, as streamlined and aerodynamic as the Arwing was, the Primal mini-nuke missiles had one clear advantage; less mass.

"I'm in effective range." Milo called out. Rourke could see his wingman edge out in front of him by a good twenty meters, closing the gap. "I'm taking the shot."

Rourke almost warned him not to shoot the missiles' warhead, but he stopped himself. If anybody could fire with the pinpoint accuracy required to vaporize the booster section and leave the rest intact, it was that raccoon.

Milo made it look easy. A quick squeeze of the trigger let off a pair of laserbolts that tracked on the tail end of the first missile in the back of the pack. The booster glowed bright for a moment before it lost containment, and the rear end disappeared in a flash of light. What was left of the missile tumbled away from the pack, careening for the ground.

Rourke tensed up for a moment as the broken missile fell away from them, but relaxed when no explosion came. Even Milo exhaled over the frequency, just as relieved.

"Good. At least we know their triggers aren't set for impact." Milo said.

"Probably set to detonate once they reach their target." Rourke agreed. He tried to line up a shot of his own, but the storm of missiles bobbed up and away from his reticule. "Shoot! They can move?"

"Smart missiles." Milo grumbled. "I'd put good money that they're starting an evasive pattern because we took one down."

"So they're all connected?" Rourke exclaimed.

"If I were a _real son of a bitch_, Rourke, like these Primals were? Yeah, I'd put in some failsafes." Milo swerved his Arwing up and inverted it to keep a track on the missiles, which now weaved in an erratic pattern while still maintaining their course. "And they're really pissing me off right now."

"Can you hit them?"

"If you let me concentrate." Milo answered evenly. "Can _you_ hit them?"

Rourke went quiet, and Milo went back to work, casually weaving after the storm. Every six seconds or so, barring a sudden turn, the raccoon lanced a pair of laserbolts into the engine of another missile.

Another alarm chirped from the diagnostics panel. **"Ugh! A **_**serious**_** overhaul."**

"ODAI, is the ship going to blow up in the next five minutes?"

**"Well…no."**

"Then shut up." The last O'Donnell snarled.

* * *

In comparison to the calm approach that Milo and Rourke had taken, Dana and Terrany's attack on their cluster of 30 nuclear-tipped missiles bound for Lunar Base was far more frenetic. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that they'd started bobbing and weaving all over the place once Terrany shot down the first one, and neither of them were as patient as Milo when it came to precision fire. They also preferred to get in much closer…which wasn't without risks.

"On your left, on your left!" Terrany shouted. Dana fired her retros for a quarter second, and the missile Terrany had warned her about streaked over her wing.

"Damn!" On instinct, Dana fired a blast after the retreating projectile and tore off the edge of a stabilizing fin. The engine of the missile sputtered out, and it tumbled back towards her Arwing as it lost speed. The tigress let out a yowl as the impotent rocket bounced off of her wing, shields flaring to compensate. She eased off of the boosters and let the storm gain a bit of distance ahead of her. "There's got to be a better way to do this!"

"Fall back for a bit and let me take a crack at it." Terrany urged her wingman. "Watch the missiles…try and see if there's a pattern to how they move."

The shields around Dana's Arwing were still flickering as the former test pilot slipped away. "Got you covered, Terrany. Good luck!"

"I don't need luck, I need a miracle." Terrany muttered quietly, keeping her sentiment off broadcast. Her Arwing responded to her troubled state of mind, swerving in wilder arcs than she wanted.

_**"Sloppy flying, McCloud."**_ KIT chastised her. Terrany scowled and steadied her nerves, landing a trio of shots that swatted two more missiles off of the edge of the cloud.

"How many we got left now?" Terrany asked, swerving after the pack. They angled up and hard left, but she followed them effortlessly, some buried instinct guiding her hand.

"We've still got twenty-two left. I'm tracking their moves...no pattern yet."

Terrany felt a sting along her scalp; the synaptic linkup trying to establish Merge Mode.

"Kit…" She said, when she unclenched her jaw from the unpleasant sensation. "I didn't ask to Merge, right?"

_**"Hey, don't go blaming the machine. Our synch ratio just jumped to 78 percent."**_ KIT retorted. The number surprised Terrany; they'd never had a synch ratio that high, even when they'd previously been merged. _**"Funny; when you tracked their last move, it was exactly what I would have done."**_

"Yeah?" Terrany spun up over the pack in a tight roll and came down on them from above. "What would you do here?"

KIT waited until her well-placed laserfire scrapped the engines of another four missiles before speaking. His voice lacked its usual Falco wit. _**"Something like that."**_

A new indicator display came up on her HUD, showing the inactive synch ratio.

_**80 percent.**_

Terrany blasted the tail ends of two more, doing her best to put thoughts of the synch ratio's meaning out of her mind. The remaining missiles gave her something else to worry about when they split into two smaller groups; a pack of four streaking along the surface on the original course, and the last twelve veering up towards the nonexistent lunar atmosphere.

"Aah, crud! You gotta be kidding me!" Terrany groaned. They only had a second to come to a decision. "Dana, pick your group!"

"You go high, I'll go low!" Dana quickly replied.

Terrany jerked her yoke back and kept the boosters steady, rocketing for the main group.

_"…Come in, Starfox. This is Wild Fox. Please respond."_

The sound of the mothership coming in over the GSP infrared interlink made her blink. "Hey…you guys are back? Took out that ship already?"

_"That's a negative." _Came Woze's reluctant reply. _"The bastards went into FTL before we got in weapons range. The General thought you could use some help."_

"Maybe." Terrany said, staring straight at her target. The pack of missiles jinked, and she pulled her Arwing into a half-corkscrew to keep up with them. "If Wyatt's there, ask him if he's got any brilliant ideas on how to shut these…" She grunted after another sudden turn, "…things down. They're getting really unpredictable!"

Her increased altitude and inverted posture allowed Terrany to look out of her cockpit to the lunar surface below. Dana's Arwing rocketed after the pack of four, firing a shot every few moments.

Wyatt's voice came over the line, clearer now. The _Wild Fox_ must have finished moving fully around the moon. _"I'm downloading the missile data from your sensor logs in realtime, Terrany. A quick glance just tells me they've been reacting to their dwindling numbers…A self-defense mechanism, maybe. I'd bet anything their current course with your pack is a one-two punch; Dana's group hits first for shock, and then your wave would crash in as a death from above to finish the job at Lunar Base. There's…Huh."_

"What?" Terrany demanded irritably. "Just spit it out, Wyatt!"

She could almost hear the amphibian scratch the skin under his billed cap. _"I picked up a shift in their radiation pattern. It's gone more active, almost like…"_

Terrany had lined up the rearmost missile in her pack in her gunsights, but the hesitation in Wyatt's voice caused her to hold off squeezing the trigger.

Her sudden patience paid off when Wyatt let out a scream. _"No! No, don't fire, hold your FI…"_

Terrany jerked away from the pack and glanced down in time to see Dana, a good three miles beneath her altitude, gun down one of the four missiles she was chasing.

Then a brilliant white flash went off, and blinded the fox before the canopy darkened to compensate.

Dana's scream echoed over the radio for only a moment before it went silent inside the nuclear explosion.

* * *

_McNabb AFB_

_125 Kilometers Inland_

When the messenger had told Captain Hound and his two wingmen that they would be on a high speed shuttle, he wasn't joking. They'd barely strapped into the atmospheric craft before it was wheels up and screaming through the skies. Even their considerable resistance to the wild G forces of Arwing combat couldn't stop their eyes from going dark around the edges during the initial thrust.

The deceleration, after a brief four and a half minute flight, was just as sudden. Captain Hound could have sworn, looking out through the open cockpit door and through the front windows, that they were going to crash into a tunnel-ridden rock outcropping before McNabb's wide shutter doors could finish opening.

With full airbrakes applied, the shuttle screamed through the shutters and was immediately arrested by high intensity tractor beams. They guided it down to the floor of the launch bay.

The pilot glanced back after cutting the engines. "We're here, Captain. Sorry about the ride…I was told to make it quick, and I figured you being Arwing pilots and all…"

"Relax, lieutenant." Hound cut the apologetic pilot off. He undid his harness straps and hid the grimace when they fell away. There'd be bruises under his flight jacket and fur, he wagered. "Me and the boys've taken worse rides. We're here, that's all that matters."

The pilot nodded. "Colonel Whitwood's waiting for you in the command center. Good luck out there."

Hound nodded solemnly. "Something tells me we'll need it."

Hound, Damer, and Wallaby took off in a dead sprint. McNabb had been a trade secret, but Hound's long service and rank had earned him the clearance to know the place existed prior to the Primal invasion. It didn't mean he knew which way he was going, but there were enough directional clues to guide him, and his men, to the heart of the base.

They arrived a minute later in the command center, a modern structure that overlooked the main cavern. A surly looking badger with broad shoulders was standing by the large viewing window with his arms behind his back. The badger lifted his head up, turned, and looked back towards them all.

"Captain Hound and the 21st, I presume?"

"Sir." Hound saluted on reflex. "Reporting as ordered, Colonel."

The badger waved off the usual military greeting. "No time to kiss ass, Hound. I need you boys up in the air and on orbital defense in two shakes. We'll be launching you on our magrail deployment system."

"Yes sir…but in what?" Hound asked, puzzled. "Our replacement Arwings aren't ready yet."

"Taken care of." Whitwood cut him off quickly. He whistled, and a koala with captain's stripes appeared behind Hound and his men. "Captain Bridges, get 'em buttoned up."

"Yes sir." The koala gave one sharp nod of his head, then turned about. "Let's get going."

On the jog from the command center to the launch platform below, Captain Hound managed a weak laugh. "So this is where you got your stupid ass assigned, Sam?"

Captain Bridges snorted. "Good seeing you too, chum."

Wallaby opened his mouth to speak, but Damer nudged the marsupial in the ribs. "Same Academy class." Damer explained.

"Ohhh." Wallaby nodded.

"Heard what you boys went through over Aquas. Hell of a mess, this war's been." Sam Bridges went on coolly. "We got a taste of it over Corneria City; my boys and I handled the cleanup after the Primals blew through. Now they're sending you back out again?"

"One man short, and no real rest to speak of." Hound nodded. "And my head still swimming from a glass of Risellem."

Bridges gave his counterpart a look. "Drinking on the job, Lars? Doesn't sound like you."

"Until we got the emergency recall order, we were _off-duty._" Hound growled. "Didn't expect the Primals to pull a stunt like this. I don't know what the SDF expects us to do without our planes."

"Oh, yeah. Your birds were pretty well trashed at Aquas, weren't they?" Bridges scratched at his chin. "As it turns out, we had a few K Arwings stashed away for a rainy day here at McNabb. General Kagan sent word they were to be activated."

The four pilots stopped in front of the launch platform, just as a hydraulic lift rolled in. Three gleaming Model K Arwings were riding on top of it.

Dumbstruck, Captain Hound between his counterpart and the fighters. "How in the..."

The koala laughed silently. "Ah, Lars. You always were a little slow on the uptake. These babies are yours for the duration, but I sure would appreciate it if you didn't die in them. Bring 'em back when you're done, you hear?"

The hound chuffed. "Let me guess. These are _your_ Arwings, aren't they, Sam?"

The marsupial shrugged. "Besides the Starfox Team, nobody has more experience taking on the Primals than the 21st. At least now, it'll be _my_ jet that does the killing. You want to take the one on the right, Lars. Your boys can take their pick of the other two."

"Dibs on the middle one!" Wallaby cried out, and hopped towards the ship. Damer was hot on his heels, but decidedly less bouncy.

"No fair, rookie!"

Sam Bridges held out his paw to Captain Hound. "Give 'em Hell, Lars."

Captain Hound returned the handshake, then pushed his partially empty bottle of Risellem against the koala's flight suit. "Hang on to this for me. We'll drink the rest when I get back."

"That's a promise." Captain Bridges replied, watching his classmate and friend rush to his Arwing.

The 21st Arwing Squadron quickly strapped themselves in and ran the silver and blue ships through their startup sequences.

One by one, the Arwings were lifted up to the magnetic launch rail and shot out of McNabb's doors, at the same speed that Strike Flight had during Corneria City's siege.

After the noise of their plasma thrusters had faded away and the shutters began to close, Captain Bridges realized that Colonel Whitwood was standing behind them.

The old badger pulled on his chin, staring at the bottle of alcohol in the koala's paw. "Contraband, captain?"

"Just holding it for a friend, sir." The koala smiled sheepishly. "He'll get it when he comes back."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Lunar Orbit_

The brilliant white flash was unmistakable, even from the _Wild Fox's_ position, hundreds of miles up and away. A nuclear explosion, albeit a comparatively small one, engulfed Dana's Arwing. Then the image cut out.

The Godsight Pods went haywire, their infrared sensors overloaded by the tremendous outpouring of light and radiation.

"Shit!" Wyatt screeched, pounding his console. "Shit! SHIT!" It let out an angry beep, prompting ROB to look over at him.

"Please do not hit the equipment." The robot intoned.

"Wyatt, get it together!" General Grey barked out, seconding the robot's calmer reproach. The old hound bit down hard on the stem of his pipe and looked to Woze at communications. "Get those GSPs up and running, Woze!"

"I'm trying, sir, I'm trying!" Woze answered hurriedly. "All this interference, it's messing up the IR connection. They don't know which signals to process, and it's choking the processing filters!"

Precious seconds ticked by with nobody knowing what had happened. Finally, the white noise and static flickered away as the pattern buffers finished a diagnostics and reset cycle.

"Connection re-established." Woze announced, on reflex alone.

Grey toggled his chair's communicator. "Dana. Terrany. Come back."

Terrany's link responded first. _"I'm here." _She sounded panicked, but her batch of missiles remained unaffected. They continued in their parabolic arc, with Terrany following behind them. _"Dana, please tell me you're alive."_

The radio circuit crackled for a bit before Dana's shaky voice echoed in. Everyone on the bridge reflexively let go of the breath they'd been holding.

_"…arely. The shields…ok the…rst of it. Sys…retty well fried. Comm…is sp…adic."_

"We've got visual!" Woze shouted out, bringing an image of Dana's battered Seraph on the main viewscreen. The shields had indeed absorbed the bulk of the holocaust, but there was no mistaking the warping of the wings around the edges, or how some of the blue paint had flaked off.

Wyatt croaked and wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. "Lylus above." He checked the statistics he'd pulled from the _Wild Fox's_ sensors. "She just lived through a blast about 12 times stronger than a normal smart bomb. The protonic filters probably saved her life. She's right, though…"

He brought up a smaller image of his diagnostics connection on the center screen for the rest of the bridge to see. Flashing red lights covered up almost every part of the ship, and a readout of system errors and failures made for indistinguishable gibberish to the untrained eye. "It almost wiped her out. Somehow, she's still flying."

"Do we have to worry about radiation poisoning?" Grey asked the amphibian, keeping his finger off of the talk switch. He didn't want Dana hearing his question, or the answer.

Wyatt nodded mutely. "Yeah. She took a bit more than an X-Ray's worth."

Grey thumbed the talk button and sighed. "Dana. RTB. You're in no shape to fight."

_"Roger." _The tigress replied. _"Ter…e rest is…to you."_

_"Just land that thing." _Terrany told her wingman. _"We'll talk more in a bit."_

General Grey switched to the ship's intercom. **"Doctor Bushtail, prep an emergency team and get to the Hangar Bay. Prepare to receive wounded…bring the radiation kit with you."**

The bridge was eerily silent in the wake of the announcement. One of their own had emerged out of certain death, only to stumble into a delayed sentence. Only Arnold Grey had the sense to break free of it and snap the others from their funk.

"We've still got missiles to shoot down, people! FOCUS! Wyatt, what in blazes happened with those missiles?"

The amphibian cleared his throat, shifting his attention back on the main problem. "Some kind of dead man's switch. The missiles that Terrany and Dana were following reacted to their dwindling numbers. They set the warheads to detonate if any part of the missile experienced a sudden failure. Terrany's batch was far enough away they didn't go off in the blast wave, but Dana's pack did a chain reaction when she hit the first one."

"So you're telling me…Our people can't shoot these things down now?" Grey asked. His claws dug into the command chair's armrests, deepening the scratches.

"The pack that Rourke and Milo are following haven't hit that point yet. If they can take them all out at once, it should stop the switch code from triggering. But Terrany's…"

Wyatt's voice trailed off.

Grey raised a hand up to his eyes and rubbed at them. "Woze, tell Rourke and Milo they need to shoot their group down in a big clump. They can use their imaginations. Wyatt? Terrany's got to pull off some kind of miracle, and you've got to help her out."

"And just what am I supposed to do?" Wyatt demanded.

Grey ignored the question and looked to Hogsmeade. "Time to missile impact?"

The porcine radar operator didn't blink. "Three minutes, forty two seconds."

General Grey reached for his tobacco pouch. "Get busy, Toad."

* * *

"Wild Fox, say _again?" _Rourke said. The incredulity the wolf's voice had was repeated in Milo's grunt.

_"If you keep shooting down those missiles one at a time, they're going to set to detonate on destruction, like they did with Dana and Terrany. You need to take them all out at once. The General said you should 'use your imaginations'."_

Rourke flipped to their private channel. "That's a fancy way of saying Grey doesn't have a frigging clue how to handle this."

Milo sighed over the radio. "Well, I've got one idea, but you're probably not going to like it."

"Let me guess. Drop a pair of smart bombs on the pack and run like Hell."

"Yep."

"You're right. I hate it." Rourke drummed his claws on the control stick. "But I'm not seeing a better option. You ready for this?"

Milo double clicked his mike, and the two Arwings spaced themselves out on the flanks of the missile storm. No longer taking fire, or even being targeted by radar lock, the Primal attack quieted down and kept a steady course.

"Set bomb trigger for timed detonation." Rourke ordered, both to Milo and his acerbic ODAI construct.

**"Locked in, boss." **His ODAI responded.

"Timed detonation, confirm." Milo chimed in.

"We'll only get one shot at this." Rourke warned his wingman. "If we miss and even one gets through, we won't be able to regain enough velocity to catch them again."

"So don't miss." Milo smirked. "Start the count, lieutenant."

Rourke took in several deep breaths. "Here's where you earn your pay, O'Donnell." He muttered to himself, then raised his voice. "Release on zero. On my mark. Five, four, three, two, one, ZERO!"

In unison, the Arwings released a pair of smart bombs that angled in on the missiles' flight path. On dumb drop, they didn't raise any alarms within the nuclear devices' guidance circuits.

The streak of red death had barely cleared the underside of Rourke's nose when he pulled back on the stick and banked away, heedless of the G forces. "BREAK!" He yelled, knowing that Milo probably already had.

**"Increasing shield output in the aft section!" **ODAI called out. **"Decreasing fore shield screens to compensate!"**

Rourke didn't have long to wait. Even though he shut his eyes and the canopy darkened against the flash, the white hot intensity of a temporary sun exploding behind shone spots in his eyes.

The blast wave of energy and light buffeted his ship in the wake, but the shield reroute and the distance he'd put between ground zero and the Seraph did the trick. He opened his eyes and drew in a shallow breath. His shield strength reported a drop to 50 percent of maximum yield, but remained in operation.

Rourke slowly turned around as the light died down, and waited for the nearby GSPs to pick up his transmission again. Once the radio was no longer making static, he spoke.

"Milo…talk to me. Come on."

The raccoon's laugh sliced through Rourke's momentary panic. "You worry too much. Shields took a beating, but nothing I didn't expect. Looks like we got them all, too."

"Small miracles." Rourke exhaled, bringing his ship around to meet up with Milo again.

"The only kind we get." His wingman grunted. "Hopefully, Terrany has one coming her way as well."

Rourke checked his radar one last time, then angled his nose upwards. Milo fell in behind him.

"Rourke to Wild Fox. Salvo Beta eliminated. We're coming home."

* * *

_Lunar Base_

"We appreciate what you and the Starfox team are doing, general." Colonel Cherrickson said. On the other end of the transmission, General Grey sat in the bridge of the most powerful ship in the Cornerian arsenal…Not even a true SDF ship, which was the real joke.

The old hound took the praise without batting an eye. _"You're not out of the woods yet, though."_ Grey reminded the CO of the training facility. _"One of our own almost died fighting these things, and…"_

Grey glanced offscreen for a moment, then looked back. _"One moment, Colonel."_ The transmission from _Wild Fox_ was muted for a moment, and Cherrickson waited patiently as General Grey nodded imperceptibly to some unheard message. Finally, the sound returned as Grey looked back to the viewscreen.

_"A bit of good news. There's only 12 missiles heading your way now. The others have been destroyed."_

"That's reassuring." Cherrickson said, knowing full well it would only take 1 warhead to vaporize the entire facility. "How much time?"

_"About two and a half minutes. These last 12 are going to be a little more trouble, but we're not giving up yet."_

Cherrickson's ears twitched. "General, you don't have to sugarcoat it. What's our chances?"

Grey gnawed on his corncob pipe for several seconds. _"Honestly? Not good."_

"Then I'd advise you, General Grey, _strongly_, to pull your people back and put as much distance as you can away from this place." Cherrickson's voice somehow remained strong, and though the rest of the crew in the command room glanced at each other, no dissenting voice was forthcoming.

Their commander had just condemned them to death. They knew why.

_"Colonel, I'm not in the habit of leaving people to die. Neither is anybody else under my command."_

Cherrickson was unfazed. "You know as well as I do that the Primals are hoping to take out Starfox by doing this. If you stay, if your pilots keep trying to save us, they win. Retreat, and you deny them the victory. We're not afraid to die. As long as Starfox lives, there's a shred of hope that the SDF can beat back the Primals."

Grey rubbed at his chin. _"I'll take it under advisement, Colonel…but remember my position. The Starfox Team's a…mercenary organization. Sometimes, they don't always follow my orders. And right now, Terrany McCloud, the pilot chasing those last twelve missiles, is deadset on saving your tails. Sit tight. Pray, if you're the religious type. If this all works out, I'll call you back in three minutes."_

_

* * *

_

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

Grey ended the transmission and glanced over his shoulder. "Wyatt still running around screaming his fool head off?"

His XO, Dander, shrugged. "Well, he's ranting still, but he's gone from gibberish to physics gibberish. I let him set up in the bridge conference room, sir."

"If it spares our eardrums, I'm all for it." Grey stood up from his chair. "He's got a connection to Terrany still, right?"

"Routed the connection myself, general." Woze piped up.

Grey stuffed a pinch of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. "You think that he'll be able to pull some kind of stunt off?"

ROB tapped on the top of his monitor to get the general's attention. The mobile ship's AI gave a nod of his head. "In my experience, Slippy was always able to come up with some bizarre solution to whatever was thrown at Fox McCloud and the original Starfox team. Based on my prior interactions with Wyatt, I believe he may yet find a solution to this crisis."

The stoic optimism seemed rather bizarre to the rest of the animals on the bridge. ROB may have had years of being online and developing complex social algorithms, but he was at his heart, a linked ship AI, nearly a century out of date. His metallic body and glowing red optical visor still left some, like Woze and Dander, ill at ease.

The robot detected the awkward silence in the room. His visor focused on General Grey. "Of course, my extrapolation may be incorrect, in which case, Terrany McCloud will perish chasing those missiles."

Unconcerned with whatever emotions the other "guests" aboard his ship were feeling, ROB turned his attention back to the weapons control console.

"Believe what you wish." ROB concluded mechanically.

* * *

_Lunar Surface_

"You want me to do _what?"_ Terrany repeated. "If I fire a bomb, they'll all go off in my face!"

_"You're not LISTENING to me, Terrany!" _Wyatt snapped back, as feverish as the albino vixen felt. _"A smart bomb, yes. A gravity bomb, yes. But I'm talking about a __**modified**__ gravity bomb, rigged for no explosion!"_

_**"You know, is that even possible?"**_ KIT asked, cutting into the connection. _**"How do you stop a bomb from going off in the first place?"**_

_"You want the technical answer, Kit, or can I stick to vocabulary even __**your**__ digitized skull can understand?" _Wyatt countered.

_**"Toads." **_KIT scoffed. _**"All of them, a giant pain in my ass."**_

_"Listen. The G-Bomb operates on a two stage system: The pull-in, and the explosion. If I can recode the launch protocols, I can channel all the power of the explosion into the gravitational microsingularity…set it to keep on drawing things in until all the power's exhausted. It's crazy, but it's the best idea I've got right now!"_

"…I get it." Terrany caught on. "If I fired one of those off, it would suck in those missiles. Without an explosion, they'd never go off until it was too late."

Suddenly, the emptiness of space didn't seem quite so intolerable. She felt like Wyatt was right there with her.

"And you can make this happen?" Terrany asked him. The missiles had just started their downwards course towards Lunar Base, leaving very little time in the countdown. Only another minute and…thirty two seconds. Thirty one.

_"What do you think I've been doing? Just have Kit open up the secondary weapons programming code and prepare for a little cut and paste. We're not going to have time to run a diagnostics check on this!"_

"We'll barely have time for Merge Mode as it is." Terrany said softly. "Let's hope my momentum keeps up with them once the thrusters shut off."

Her eyes went briefly to the Merge readout in the corner of the HUD.

It blinked to 81 percent.

_**"Quit thinking like me." **_KIT complained.

"We needed sixty percent and we're doing a third better than that and you're complaining? I thought it was my job to worry about losing my mind." Terrany joked. "Besides, it's not like you're thinking that we're flying into certain death here, like I am.

_**"Actually…"**_

A spark of Merge data flickered over the metallic studs of her helmet, causing Terrany to flinch.

_**I was thinking that too**_, came KIT's unspoken thought.

"Kit, you're scaring me." Terrany said. Instinctively, her free hand went up to the flight helmet covering the top ridge and sides of her scalp. It was trying to react, start a Merge. She hadn't asked for one yet, though.

They'd need to soon, though.

_**"Wyatt, I've got the weapons systems offline and the code open." **_KIT said, staying on top of the mission. _**"If you're going to do something…"**_

Unable to speed Wyatt's progress, Terrany kept her Arwing screaming after the missiles as they fell towards Lunar Base. She could make out a small reflective glimmer on the stony, meteor-pounded surface that marked its position.

Fifty-one seconds.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Command Planning Center (Bridge Conference Room)_

The room had been turned into a disaster area of holographic images, paper, and projected lines of code and equations across every wall. In the middle of the storm was Wyatt Toad, who feverishly bounced from one display to the next. His large, bulbous eyes rotated wildly in their sockets, and his brain worked at feverish speed.

Webbed fingertips typed in a new line of code, and one last quarter second check of all the different coefficients and power conduction node points did the trick.

He slammed the return key, saved the new programming code, and sent it on its way.

"Terrany, it's on its' way. The rest is up to you!"

He lingered where he stood a moment longer, panting after the rapid burst of ingenuity. Rerouting the charge capacitors to stop feeding the Cornite warhead was one thing, but _reversing the flow of energy_ so that the Cornite fed the singularity had been a masterstroke! An innovation that would see no paper, no publication in a scientific journal of theoretical astrophysics, just…

Oh, boy.

He was tired.

Wyatt slumped to the ground and let out one last exhausted exhalation.

"Do it, Terrany." He wheezed, looking up to the holographic feed one last time.

It reverted to the GSP's angled view of her Arwing, the missiles, and Lunar Base.

* * *

_**"Got the program!" **_KIT shouted. _**"Loading it in."**_

Terrany looked down for a small fraction of a second to her diagnostics panel.

The transfer in progress disappeared, and the weapons icon went green.

Terrany faced the missiles once more. There was no time for doubts or hesitation. "Let's do this, Kit."

_**"Initiating Merge."**_

The void went from black to white…

* * *

_…And there was Falco, as obscenely confident as ever. The blue-feathered avian smiled and waved across the emptiness of their linked mindscape._

_ "You're getting better at this." He complimented her. _

_ Terrany folded her arms, glad that her psychic manifestation kept her favorite fatigues and leather flight jacket intact. Falco's more digitized clothing would have seemed ridiculous on her. It still looked ridiculous on him._

_ "You know, I __**can**__ hear you think that?" Falco snorted. He countered with a thought of his own that made Terrany gasp and flatten her ears on the sides of her head._

_ "You're a damn pervert!"_

_ "Why, just because she's dead?" He countered innocently. "Besides, I'm just trying to get you riled up. You think more clearly when you're ticked off. Must be a family trait…" He rubbed the underside of his break. "I'd do this to Fox, too, when he got too mopey."_

_ "He ever punch you in the face for that?"_

_ "Came close a couple of times. Of course, your granddad, he'd do about the opposite when I got too angry. So it all evened out."_

_ "Bah." Terrany shook her head. "Forget it. Let's…Let's just finish this. How much time have we wasted, anyhow?"_

_ "Oh, seven milliseconds." Falco mused. "Give or take a few microseconds, of course."_

_ "That's it?" Terrany exclaimed. _

_ Falco laughed. "You ever want a really good argument, try staying Merged the full five minutes without any outside distractions. Then we could really get into it."_

_ "I'll keep that in mind." Terrany rolled her eyes. "Can we get to work already?"_

_ Falco sighed for effect. "Spoilsport." He waved his hand, and the empty white space around them vanished, taking on the appearance of a military command center. Different screens captured images from various sources: The front and rear-facing cameras on the outside of the Arwing, various spectrographic settings, and of course, Terrany's own eyesight as well._

_ The whole world on the outside of their mindscape crawled by at a sluggish pace._

_ "Never got used to everything else being in slow-motion." Terrany said. "Is it this bad for you, normally?"_

_ Her digitized counterpart shrugged. "Gets worse when you're here. The decorations in here are new, though. Did you think this construct up, or did I?"_

_ "Maybe it's a side effect." Terrany blinked, guiding the Arwing by thought. With the Seraph safe inside a bubble of anti-gravity, the movements were effortless. "Ulie told me once that the ODAIs they developed after your programming took on some of the mental traits of their users over time. Maybe, since you and I are both…"_

_ "Not really computer programs?" Falco interrupted._

_ "…Yeah, that…maybe we're __**both**__ influencing the environment in here."_

_ Falco crossed his arms. "Hm. Could use a bit more blue."_

_ "Shut up and charge the G-Bomb, would you?" She snapped._

_ Heedless of her irritation, Falco…KIT…returned to his duties. As much as they argued and fought, they had a lot in common. He trusted her, and even respected her._

_ Terrany raised her head up and looked at him. The ghost in the machine smiled when she begrudgingly nodded her head, having heard his thought and returned one of her own._

_ The feeling was mutual._

_

* * *

_

_Wild Fox_

All eyes on the bridge watched, unblinking, as the first of the prototype Seraph Arwings unfurled its secondary wings, and the G-Diffuser pods opened and quartered to let the G-Negator Drive activate.

It followed the missiles in silence, a gleaming, fragile six-winged angel. The countdown timer to detonation ticked down.

**37. 36. 35.**

Then the Arwing moved. It raised its relative altitude on the missiles and angled its nose ahead of them.

A streak of brilliant white light, a fully-charged Gravity Bomb, soared from the launcher, passing the missiles by. It blazed to a point on their flight path only a second away.

No sooner had it fired the shot than the Merged Seraph reversed direction, going backwards without ever turning around.

The G-Bomb, flashing brilliantly against the backdrop of the lunar surface below, reached its destination. And disappeared. In a flash, all the light it had been producing flickered out.

The micro-singularity the modified explosive produced was invisible to the naked eye, but there was no mistaking its presence. The missiles suddenly began to rattle and shake. All twelve were drawn towards that point of annihilation, and not their momentum, not their thrusters, not the unseen electronic will of the devices could help them escape.

Horrifying distortions twisted and bent the missiles, swirling them around an insignificantly small but powerful knot of super-gravity. Their metal skins sheared off and stretched into strings that disappeared like sucked spaghetti. The warheads themselves flattened into discs, glowing brightly as the event horizon smashed their density to critical mass. With time itself akimbo, the outside observers watched in horrible fascination as the weapons went off, one by one, in blinding and awe-inspiring slow-motion.

"Mother of Lylus." Grey uttered hoarsely.

Not even the irradiative fires of twelve nuclear explosions could escape their inevitable fate. One by one, the miniature suns blinked out of existence, lost to a hidden abyss.

ROB switched the main viewscreen to X-Ray imaging, and in the aftermath of the light show, the micro-singularity began to dwindle and shrink, eating itself as the power that had forged it dissipated. It regurgitated the remnants of its last meal as a bright and blinding burst of gamma rays, which soared up and out of the Lylat System on a vertical angle. The last gasp spelled its end.

The effects of the G-Bomb vanished.

Terrany's Arwing flew away undamaged.

And Lunar Base was still standing.

_"Terrany to Wild Fox." _Her Arwing folded up its wings and blue G-Diffuser pods, de-Merging. _"Mission accomplished."_

General Grey sat back in his chair and took a long draw from his pipe. The moment's peace was interrupted by a call from Lunar Base.

_"General, what in Creator's name __**was that?**__"_ Colonel Cherrickson demanded.

Grey smiled, unseen by the vox-only transmission. "That, Colonel, was Starfox. They just saved your hides against your wishes, I might add."

The old squirrel let out a relieved laugh. _"I guess we'll spare them the Court-Martial, then. Thank you, sir."_

The line cut out, and Grey got up. He headed to his conference room, intending to congratulate Wyatt on the miracle. He stopped in the doorway when he saw the amphibian slumped on the floor, snoring loudly.

Dander appeared behind him, looking over his shoulder. "You want me to wake him up, sir?"

"Nah." Grey grumbled, shutting the door. "Give him an hour. **Then** wake him up. For now, get our people back on board and bring us back to planetary orbit. We're done here."

"Aye-aye, sir." Dander grinned. Grey walked past him, but Dander followed. Grey looked over his shoulder.

"Something else on your mind, Tom?" He asked casually.

The orange feline didn't stop smiling. "Still wish you'd taken that desk job, General?"

Grey considered the question, pulling his replacement pipe out of his mouth. He finally gave a surly shake of his head. "Screw the desk job." He jammed the pipe back in his mouth and kept walking. "You have the bridge, Mr. Dander."

"Aye, sir!" Dander called after him loudly. He had to.

The cheering nearly drowned him out.

* * *

_Lunar Command_

Senator Zemus looked as though he'd passed a bowling ball out and survived the effort. "I can't believe it. That Arwing…That Terrany McCloud…what in God's name did she do?"

"That's classified, Senator." Colonel Bruce Cherrickson retorted, his good mood fading quickly. He glanced across the control center to his second in command and gave an imperceptibly small nod. "Even I don't know what their weapons systems are fully capable of."

"Oh, that's ridiculous!" Zemus snapped. "I'm on the Armed Forces Committee. It's my business to know what they can do!"

"Why, so you can use it as something else to further your political ends?"

The radio operator cleared his throat. "Colonel, we have a transmission coming in from Parliament. They're asking for you."

Zemus didn't stop the sneer he developed. "Ha! Threaten me, will you? You're about to feel the full weight of…"

His cutting remark was ended when Cherrickson backhanded the Senator to the floor. Base security ran to his position and hoisted up the bedraggled ferret.

"That's the end of your career, Colonel!" Zemus screamed, struggling against the guards that held him tight. "Assaulting an elected public official? You'll _ROT_ for this!"

Cherrickson's hard stare into the ferret's eyes shut up his ravings. "Maybe I oughta put a bullet into your skull then. If I'm going to prison, I may as well kill one last son of a bitch. You almost got everyone on this base killed, Zemus. Your Armed Forces Committee arranged this little demonstration, and you used it to further your political agenda. You announced publicly, _while it was happening_, that the Arwings were there. And guess what? The Primals launched a nuclear strike on us. What did you think was going to happen, you sniveling rat bastard?" Cherrickson loomed up next to Zemus and raised himself up, staring down the politician with his full wrath. "In my book, you're stupid, you betrayed us to our enemies, and you're a waste of life."

He stepped away from the dumbstruck ferret and nodded to the radio operator. "Put it up. Let's hear what Parliament has to say."

Their viewscreen brought up a new window that displayed the interior of Corneria City's Parliament building. It looked as though the entire governing body was in session.

There wasn't a smiling face among them.

The Speaker in charge was an old bear whose black fur had mostly gone to gray. He lifted his glasses up and away from his nose and nodded.

_"Colonel Bruce Cherrickson, I presume?"_

"Yes, sir." The squirrel stood at attention, unflinching. "Senator Brushwood, it's good to see you."

_"Good to see that you're all still alive and well." _The old bear smiled. The rest of Parliament was arranged behind him, letting the camera get a clear shot of the massed authority present. _"When General Kagan contacted us and said that the Primals were firing nuclear weapons at you, we feared the worst. It looks like the Starfox team saved the day again, though."_

"Barely, sir." Cherrickson replied curtly. "By all rights, we should be dead. The Primals were listening, sir. They're always listening."

_"A chilling fact that we were aware of, but that some conveniently ignored." _Brushwood growled. This time, his gaze turned to look on Senator Zemus. _"We caught __**your**__ broadcast as well, Senator. To say I'm disappointed would be an understatement."_

"What?" Zemus's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Bill, what are you…"

The Speaker of Parliament looked back to Colonel Cherrickson. _"I see you have him restrained. Have you arrested him yet?"_

"Was thinking about it, sir." Cherrickson replied, allowing a faint smile to start to grow on him.

Brushwood set his hands on his knees. _"Go right ahead." _

**"What?"** Zemus exploded. "Senator Brushwood, how can you…I can't be arrested! My position gives me immunity to base criminal charges!"

_"But not against high treason. Under the Military Security Act, charges can be brought to anyone, regardless of position. Your impromptu television interview disclosed highly sensitive information and exposed our armed forces to enemy attack. Specifically…The Seraph Arwings and the Starfox team. There are many things about politics that are disreputable, but you crossed a line. The men and women of Lunar Base, the Starfox Team, the Wild Fox, and the rest of our Space Defense Forces are out there fighting and dying to stop the Primals. Creator only knows how many of our kin on other planets here in Lylat have been exterminated. You tried to use them as your own personal political bargaining chip, to earn popularity points. The vote's been taken, Zemus. As of five minutes ago, you have publicly censured and put on legislative suspension. Charges of impeachment have been brought up, of which I have no doubt you will be found guilty and expelled from this body of government. Then, when __**that's**__ done, we're going to let Major General Kagan and the CSC have a piece of you."_

Finally laid low, dumbstruck as he felt the world crumbling around him, Zemus looked to the whole of Parliament with searching eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" He whispered.

Brushwood slipped his glasses back on. _"After all of this, you still have the gall to ask that question? Colonel, get him out of my sight."_

"Yes, SIR." The commander of Lunar Base motioned to his security patrol, and they dragged the numb and senseless politician out and towards the brig.

Now without the ferret who'd started the whole chain reaction of events, Cherrickson breathed a little easier. "If you beg my pardon, Senator, that felt awfully damned good."

_"I'm sorry, Colonel." _Brushwood apologized. _"On behalf of the entire Parliament, you have my deepest apologies. This entire tragedy could have been avoided. Rest assured, we've adopted a resolution that will make sure no Senator ever abuses his knowledge about the SDF for political gain…or even makes some off-hand remark about it to the wrong person. The public backlash from this is going to be intense. Already, we've got word coming in from various media outlets that there's growing outrage. You don't have to worry about that, though. Just keep it up."_

"My plan all along, Bill." Cherrickson agreed.

_"Oh…I almost forgot. With Zemus no longer on the Armed Forces Committee, perhaps you'd care to tell us how the Seraph Arwings performed?"_

Cherrickson grinned. "You should know, Senator…it's not the aircraft that wins a battle. It's the people fighting in it. The Seraphs have some real decent performance to them, worth every penny that Project Seraphim used. But these pilots…This Starfox team…They're the heart of it all. I have no doubt we'll win this war. I heard it in their voices. They're cocky, they're crazy, and they have trouble following requests…but they've got their priorities straight. You get asked, you tell the reporters that the Seraph Arwing's just a ship. It's these pilots that deserve the praise."

* * *

_Cornerian Orbit_

Captain Hound and the 21st eased back on their thrusters as they cleared the upper atmosphere of their homeworld.

"Set autopilot for orbital mode and calculate vectors." Hound ordered coolly. He toggled his radio and set it to the SDF Broadwave. "SDF Command, this is Callsign Growler 1 of the 21st. We have reached the designated coordinates. Awaiting further instructions, over."

_"Roger, Growler 1. We have you all on radar. Looks like the Starfox team's taken care of the problem. Hold position until the Wild Fox returns to station."_

"Roger that." Hound switched back to his unit's private frequency. "Well, boys, looks like we got all dressed up for nothing."

"Aww, seriously?" Wallaby whined.

"Cheer up, rookie." Damer joked. "At least we got to fly in some new Arwings for a while."

"I'd hardly call a burn into orbit a flight." Hound criticized the squirrel.

Their radios crackled as a new signal cut into their chatter. _"Growler, we have an urgent communication from Corneria City for you. Please hold the line open."_

"Huh?" Corneria City?" Wallaby questioned. "Someone at Cornelius, maybe?"

His doubts were destroyed when a firm voice of command they all recognized cut in.

_"Captain Hound. This is Major General Kagan at the CSC."_

Hound drew in a sharp breath, hesitating for a moment before speaking up. "General. What can we do for you, sir?"

_"How are those new Arwings treating you?"_

"Pretty well, general." Hound replied.

_"Sorry we couldn't get them to you sooner. We're still scrambling down here, and most of our model K's are deployed. They're yours, though. Just got done with final negotiations with McNabb AFB, and they've agreed to let the 21__st__ keep the shipment of K Arwings for the duration."_

"Well, that's…damn nice of them." Hound said. "But you wouldn't be calling if you didn't have something else on your mind, general. You have new marching orders for us?"

_"Redeployment, you mean?" _Kagan clarified. The lynx that oversaw the CSC and thus, the whole of the SDF made a noncommittal noise. _"Not as yet. For the time being, stay put. Until the _Wild Fox _returns from the moon and takes planetary orbit, you're all we've got up there. When they arrive, go ahead and dock with the ship. I've been told there's enough room for a second flight of Arwings in its hangar bay. Any further orders the SDF has for your squadron will be passed through General Arnold Grey, acting commander of the _Wild Fox_. Any questions?"_

"No, sir."

_"All right then. Keep them flying, gentlemen. And…good luck."_

The communication cut out again, and Hound furrowed his eyebrows. "That was odd."

"Why would we dock with the _Wild Fox_, sir?" Wallaby asked his captain and flight lead. "It doesn't make any sense. Why not just head back to Cornelius or McNabb?"

"I'm not sure myself, Wally." Captain Hound rumbled. "There's something going on, though. Something we're not seeing."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

The sight of Dana Tiger inside an enclosed capsule was disheartening enough, but the fact that she was partially covered in dried vomit and was still dry heaving made it all the worse.

Terrany pressed her hand to the transparisteel, shaking her head. "Dana…"

Milo and Rourke stood nearby, but the two men of the squadron were doing a better job of keeping it together…or hiding their own feelings. General Grey, who watched it all from the exit door, was even more inscrutable.

The tigress gave her a weak smile, doing her best not to move around too much. _"It looks worse than it is."_ She told the younger pilot. _"A side effect of the treatment."_

"And I think you'd all prefer to have her a little queasy than dead from radiation poisoning, now wouldn't you?" Dr. Bushtail asked crisply. The simian clearly wasn't enjoying so many extra visitors lingering around in his space. "You can all stop fretting. Frankly, it's a miracle that she came out of that noise alive. There's got to be a record for that somewhere…Dana's very likely the first person to live in the primary zone of destruction of a nuclear blast, and it's thanks to your crazy Arwings."

"So, when will she get out of here?" Rourke asked the doctor.

"When I'm finished with her isotopic soak, you cretin. And that takes at least twenty-four hours. More, to be safe." Bushtail snapped. He glanced towards General Grey, with a pleading expression.

The old dog sighed and eased himself off of the wall. "All right children. Let's leave Miss Tiger alone. I'm sure you've got other things you need to be doing."

By the capsule, Dr. Bushtail nodded to Dana as an oxygen mask lowered into the tube's interior. "All right, Dana. I'll be filling the tube with an isotopic solution now, so you'll want to put the mask on. It will keep you oxygenated, but unconscious during the procedure. You'll want to be anesthetized for this…When your body purges the radiation it's soaked in, the physical strain can be somewhat uncomfortable."

_"Just do what you need to, Doc."_ Dana reassured him. _"Wake me when it's over."_

Out in the hallway, Terrany was comforted by Milo. The raccoon dropped a hand over the vixen's shoulder. "Doc Bushtail knows what he's doing. Dana will be fine, don't worry."

"If Terrany's going to worry, she'll worry regardless of whatever we say to cheer her up." Rourke butted in. He had a distant look on his face, as if something was on his mind. "Nothing we can do about it."

"Well, aren't you a chipper chicken today?" General Grey snorted. His earpiece suddenly chimed, and he looked away from the pilots. "Grey here." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. I'll be down in a bit."

Milo straightened himself up. "Something wrong, General?"

"No, they just need me down in the Hangar Bay." The old hound said. "Rourke, get that mission report written up for me, would you?"

Rourke bobbed his snout once. "I'll need access to all the Arwing logs and the GSP streaming video."

"You've got it, O'Donnell. Talk to Executive Officer Dander in the bridge, he'll fix you up. And while you're up there, ask him if he's shaken Wyatt out of his coma yet."

"Yeah, all right." The wolf disappeared off down the hall, and Grey marched towards the elevator. Milo and Terrany followed after the gruff old wardog.

"You two want to tag along?" Grey asked, when they were still standing by him at the elevator.

"If it's all right, sir. I wanted to check my Arwing over again anyhow." Terrany said.

"What the Hell." Grey grunted. "You may as well. I've got some people to introduce you to anyhow."

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped on before the daredevil and the ace gunner of the squadron could press him for more information.

* * *

_Venom_

_Hall of Antiquity_

The Missile Cruiser _Conflagration_ had dropped out of FTL in Venomian orbit, and was quickly approached by two _Inferno_ class dreadnoughts. The Captain and his First Officer had been ordered to report to the Hall of the Tribunes, and their ship was put in orbit, given a place of order among Venom's defenders.

The captain marched down the ancient halls of stone with pride. "At last, we shall be given acclaim!" He said to his underling. "We have struck the blow that has laid the Arwings and these feeble "Cornerians" low."

His first officer was not quite as convinced. "If that is so, sir, why is it that the captain of the _Ignition_ did not offer congratulations?" He looked around the hall, more unnerved by the second as other Primals in the home of their ancestors avoided looking at them. "Why does nobody meet our gaze?"

"They do not yet know, is all." His captain scoffed. "In time, they will sing our praises, worry not."

Through the solid double doors of the Tribunal chambers, they finally came face to face with the leaders of their species. Those who spoke for the Lord of Flames, who wielded absolute power and authority.

There was not a smiling face among them, and finally, the captain began to worry.

"We received your report of the attack on the base of the Cornerian moon." The lead Tribune announced. "I want you to know that although we applaud initiative, a major nuclear attack was not something we would have authorized."

The captain of the _Conflagration_ managed not to wince.

"Furthermore, your attack _failed_ to destroy the Arwings, as you had hoped it would." The Tribune went on. "We have just received a new transmission that the Cornerian military sent out. They wanted us to hear this one."

Eyes burning, the Tribune looked down on the captain. "I would like you to hear it."

A holographic projection orb dropped from the ceiling and hovered in midair, bringing up a massive rectangular display that mimicked a flatscreen imager.

The text at the bottom, in "Lylatian" text, read as **Major General Winthrop Kagan, Cornerian Space Command.** The animal on screen was a dark-furred lynx, whose eyes held no trace of humor.

_"Earlier today, a reckless and wholly political broadcast by Senator Zemus of the Parliament Armed Forced Committee across the news broadwave frequencies put our military forces at risk. In an interview with television news anchors, he announced the location of the Starfox team and their Seraph Arwings. This information allowed the Primals to launch a surprise attack at Lunar Base, where the squadron was on assignment. To confirm the rumors, this attack __**did**__ use nuclear weapons. Luckily for everyone at Lunar Base, the Starfox team was able to disable and destroy the missiles. The Primal ship responsible fled the scene when reinforcements were sent to intercept. As is now public knowledge, Senator Zemus has been arrested for his actions, which are considered a crime under the Military Security Act, and will be impeached. These are the facts._

_ The outcome of this is simple: The Primals are not only able to monitor our communications, but they are listening, and waiting to strike. Henceforth, the Space Defense Forces will operate outside the scope of public view. If we are to succeed, and drive these invaders out, the radio waves must be kept quiet. News briefs, like this one, will now be the primary vessel of information from the military to the citizens of Corneria and our sister worlds in Lylat. Furthermore, the Starfox Team and their mothership, under the command of Brigadier General Arnold Grey, are being set loose. As they are the tip of the spear, they must be able to act independently and with speed. I will not __**ever**__ divulge their capabilities, but rest assured, after their performance today, there is not a doubt in my mind that the Primals are in for a rude awakening. We're not done fighting yet, and the Primals aren't done losing. May the Creator guide us to victory."_

The image disappeared, and the Tribune spoke up again. "Not only have you failed to destroy the Arwings, you have emboldened these foolish animals to continue resistance against us. You have slowed the momentum of the Armada." He narrowed his eyes. "And there is but one punishment for such a failure."

The captain's mouth went dry, as the air in the room suddenly grew warmer. The holographic projection orb activated again, but this time, it displayed a live feed.

Across the gaps of the cosmos, a face of Primal perfection, flame-wreathed and in dimensional flux appeared.

The Lord of Flames Himself.

_**"**_**WHEN MY WARNINGS FALL ON DEAF EARS, THEN A PRICE WILL BE EXACTED." **The god and ruler of the entire Primal species rumbled. His voice echoed like the roar of a blaze left to burn high and angry in a low wind. **"THE ARWINGS, AND STARFOX ARE TO BE DESTROYED. YOU THREW THE FIRES OF HEAVEN AT THEM, AND RAN. NOW THEY SOAR, ANGRY, AGAINST ALL MY CHILDREN, WHEN YOU ****SHOULD HAVE ENDED THEM****. COWARD. FOOL."**

The Lord of Flames blinked once, and the captain of the _Conflagration_ screamed for an instant. It was all he had as he was lit on fire, burned from the inside out. The air in his lungs exploded and charred his heart in an instant, and the rest of his body followed, till nothing was left but a pile of bones…and a skull, still hinged open in an eternal shriek.

The Lord of Flames growled once more. **"DUST."** Then his image faded away, and the holographic orb retracted.

Shaken, close to nauseous from the smell of burned fur and skin that had once been his commanding officer, the first officer of the _Conflagration_ looked up to the Tribunes. There was no forgiveness or sympathy to be found. Not that there ever was.

The leader of the Tribunes pointed a bony finger down towards him. "You are now captain of your ship. Do better than your foolish and cowardly predecessor, and you may yet please our Lord."

The Primal dry swallowed, nodded once, then turned and ran out of the room as fast as his feet would take him.

Out in the hallway, Captain Telemos of the newly forged Phoenix Squadron watched from the shadows as one man left where two had entered. The fear in the man's eyes spoke of a justice he and his squadron had somehow escaped.

A justice that would still loom…

If they failed to stop Starfox…

And _Terrany McCloud_…

Again.

* * *

_Wild Fox _

_Hangar Bay_

The _Great Fox_ was a legendary ship in the Space Defense Forces. An entire generation of Arwing pilots, the elite of the elite, had grown wishing that they could have had one chance to land and launch from the ship that had been destroyed in the last phase of the Aparoid Invasion, during the counterstrike. The mechanism it used, which let fighters enter through a rear landing port in the high fantail and descend on a slanting elevator to the hangar bay and launch bay at the front bottom of the ship, hadn't been implemented before and hadn't been used since.

Now Captain Hound and the rest of the 21st were living that dream.

The lift carrying his Arwing rolled to a stop in the Hangar Bay, giving him his own spot. He popped the canopy open and unstrapped himself from his seat. A look around impressed him; besides his Arwing and the two of his wingmen, there were four additional Arwings…the Seraphs, he realized…parked as well. There seemed to be enough room left in the massive space for another ten fighters of the K-Arwing's dimensions besides.

"They must have been **expecting** a war when they built this." He muttered. Of course, given its status as a relic from the waning days of the original Starfox squadron, that assumption made no sense.

"Captain!" Damer's voice ended his thinking, and the squirrel and marsupial under his command rushed over from their own fighters to look up at him. "Would you look at this place? Can you believe it's a _privately owned ship?_"

"I wish it wasn't." Hound grumbled. He hopped down from his fighter, using a squat to absorb the impact of his fall. "Still, it looks like they take good care of it."

"Glad to hear you say that, captain." An easygoing black bear meandered towards them, rubbing his paw on a greasy chamois cloth. He was wearing a mechanic's overalls, well smudged from use. The ursine smiled at them. "You'd be Captain Lars Hound and the 21st, right?"

Hound nodded. "And you?"

The mechanic stuck his newly cleaned paw out. "Ulie Darkpaw. Assistant Chief Engineer and mechanic under Wyatt Toad. Arspace Dynamics corporation." The two shook hands, and Ulie motioned over his shoulder. "If you'll come with me, captain?"

Ulie led the procession out away from the fighters and to the main aisle. Engineers with gear ran around the floor, dragging toolbags or lugging pieces of equipment with them as they went. A good half-dozen were crowded around a particularly battered and fried looking Seraph Arwing in the far corner.

"Having trouble with your new ships?" Hound guessed.

"Nah, just fixing them up all the damn time." Ulie grumbled. "These things can take a Hell of a beating, though. That one they're repairing lived through a nuclear blast. Shields took the worst of it, but I heard that the pilot, Dana, is up in the Medical Bay being treated for radiation sickness."

"Son of a…" Wallaby's ears flattened back.

"Easy, rookie." Damer cautioned the marsupial. "We all knew the risks joining up."

"Yeah, there's plenty of risk to go around here." Ulie agreed. "But not enough sleep. My boys and I pull a lot of double shifts, keeping these things flying. Do me a favor, captain…don't make our jobs harder than they have to be."

"Not my intention." Hound frowned. "Besides, I'm not flying with you. Just docking for a while."

"Actually, Captain, that's not entirely true." The authoritative voice of General Grey came down from ahead and above, and the 21st looked up to see the military commander in charge of Starfox looking down on them from the metal gantry by the elevators. Beside him was a ring-tailed raccoon with a well-groomed, military appearance, and a female vulpine in a rumpled leather flight jacket with pale white fur.

"Brought 'em like you wanted, sir." Ulie piped in.

Grey fixed his hat. "Very well. I'll let you get back to it, Ulie. Anything we can do for you and your crews?"

"Yeah, have Pugs send down some sandwiches and sodas, would you?" Ulie wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "Something tells me we'll be at this for a while."

"You've got it." Grey chuckled. The wrench turner meandered back towards the Arwings, and Grey walked down the ladder towards Captain Hound and his wingmen.

"I believe that General Kagan told you to dock with the _Wild Fox_, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Hound said, not liking the direction the conversation was headed. "He said you'd have our new orders."

"Well, I do." Grey motioned behind him. "Let me introduce you to some people first. This is Sergeant Milo Granger…" The raccoon gave him a nod, "…And Terrany McCloud." The vixen just stared at the three newcomers. "I believe you met them briefly before."

"Yeah, I did." Hound grunted. "Where's that O'Donnell character? Still holed up with a sore jaw?"

"The lieutenant's taking care of some paperwork." Milo answered, unruffled by the captain's glib remark. "I didn't expect to see you three again."

"Well, you're all going to be seeing a lot more of each other, children." General Grey announced.

Milo and Captain Hound both had the same simultaneous reaction.

_**"**__What?"_

Grey didn't bother trying to suppress the chuckle. "Afraid so. Captain Hound, you and the 21st are being transferred to my command. As of about ten minutes ago, actually. The written orders are coming soon, but that's the gist of it."

"Wait a minute!" Terrany started in. "They're SDF pilots. They weren't on Project Seraphim, they're not Starfox team!"

Grey gave Milo and Terrany a hard look. "You think that I need more pilots being tainted with the ridiculously crazy stunts that you and Rourke pull?" He looked back to the dumbstruck 21st squadron. "No, you'll retain your military rank and status. For the duration of this conflict, though, you'll be stationed here on the _Wild Fox_, and I'll be giving you your sorties. You'll work in conjunction with Starfox for maximum effect."

"…Respectfully, sir, we're needed here to protect Corneria." Hound answered.

Grey sighed. "Sergeant? Take Terrany and go get a bite to eat. Once you're finished in the mess, go find the quartermaster and see about finding these three some bunk space."

Milo clicked his tongue. "You've got it, sir." The raccoon grabbed Terrany by the arm and dragged her off, ignoring her protests.

Grey waited until they were on the elevator and the doors were closing before he resumed his conversation.

"Captain Hound, there's another reason that I requested the 21st Squadron join us here."

"I'd sure love to hear it." The younger dog crossed his arms.

"When you got to Cornelius, you were all given a full physical by the medical personnel. Part of that included a recording of your EEGs. As it turns out, a member of Growler flight has the right neurosynaptic makeup to fly a Seraph Arwing in Merge Mode." His eyes settled on Wallaby.

"Are you saying…I'll get to fly in a Seraph?" Wallaby swallowed. Though his voice was unsteady, he was definitely excited by the idea.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Grey said. "For the time being, we'll train you on the Seraphs we have. I'd toss you in a simulator, but those all were destroyed with Ursa Station. Eventually, you'll have a Seraph of your own…though it may be a while. Our chief engineer and his crew get run ragged keeping the planes we already have up and flying. He's not going to be too happy when I fell him we'll need a new one from scratch."

"If he's a Toad, he'll manage." Hound muttered. He scratched behind his ear. "I can't say that I'm happy about this, General, but at least you're keeping our team together."

"First rule of leadership: Don't break up the band." Grey adjusted his hat. "I know you've got a beef with Starfox. Hell, they drive me crazy too. We're a couple of old war dogs, and they fly in the face of everything we were trained to uphold. So I'm just going to ask you one thing. To stop the Primals, can you fly with them?"

Hound looked to his two wingmen. Behind them, he imagined a wispy figure that smiled, like Argen always had. Like he never would again.

Who would never fly with them again.

"To stop the Primals, I'd fly into the mouth of Hell itself, sir." Hound promised.

Grey pulled a corncob pipe from his coat pocket and jammed the stem into his jaws. "Before this war's done, captain…you probably will."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Rourke O'Donnell's Cabin_

_That Night_

The old saying, _"Heavy is the head that wears the crown"_, never made sense to Rourke before.

Now, it finally did. And the tumbler of Therka in his hand didn't wipe it out of his mind, even though he wished it would.

The mission report was done: Written in his usual, truncated manner, without any meaningful narrative. They finished the trials at Lunar Range. The Primals attacked. They saved the day. Cue fireworks and flag.

He wasn't upset that Terrany had beaten him. It was unexpected, certainly. Irritating at first, but there was pride that came with it; both that he had a pilot on his squadron that could go toe to toe with him and not bat an eye, and that after it, they'd both still been friends. As odd as it sounded, he got along better with her than any other member of the team. An O'Donnell and a McCloud. Considering that an ancient alien race that preceded their own had come to exterminate them all and reclaim their homelands, stranger things had happened, but still…

He leaned his forehead against the thick transparisteel window along the outer wall of his cabin. Had he wanted to, he could have drawn the blinds. Opened, it let him stare out into the vastness of space. Corneria was on the other side of the ship.

Even with his fur, the vacuum left a bitter chill along the barrier that kept his room whole and secure. Not even the atmospheric shielding, which would have kept the room pressurized even if the window was broken, could stave off that transfer of heat. It numbed the skin that covered his skull, and gave him reprieve from a feverish mind racing for meaning.

"Why?" He pulled himself off of the window before his headfur froze to it. He caught a glance at his reflection and shivered.

Rourke had never seen his eyes so empty before. Maybe all the fight _had_ drained out of him. It would be fitting. He'd always been a failure. Now he was tied to all of this mess, every day reminding him of what he'd lost. What he'd suffered.

Who had caused it.

It was just a lack of sleep, a part of him argued. Or loneliness. Both, probably. The two seemed to follow each other, ever since they'd lost Skip. They'd brought Terrany on board to try and fill the gap his combat experience had brought to them, and though she was every bit as good of a pilot as her brother…She couldn't replace him. Rourke wouldn't want her to try.

_You go crazy trying to become something you're not._

But ever since Rourke had been promoted to flight lead, he'd been engrossed in the role that Carl McCloud had taken to so innately. Carl had been a fish in water, and Rourke had been drowning since day one. He'd been so busy worrying about what he _needed_ to do, along the way, he'd lost the ability to keep sight of what he _had_ to do. To watch out for the rest of them. Carl had trusted Rourke with the team. He'd given him a new family to be a part of, to protect.

_I should have seen the signs._

Rourke lifted his glass and drained the rest of the potent alcohol in one quick gulp. He exhaled, feeling the vapors from the drink burn at his throat. "Why?" He repeated, angrier than before. Rage, his natural inclination, filled the dead emptiness that was eating at him. "You stupid broad, **why?**"

He'd almost gone pacing around the ship. The space would have helped him to vent more quickly, and with less distilled liquor, but he might have bumped into others better left ignored for the time being.

Milo, in particular. If anybody could extrapolate the cause of his irrational mood, it would be the deadeye shootist. And Rourke didn't want anybody figuring this out. The mission report would have to stand as it was.

He'd only been mildly suspicious at first. In the Medical Bay, just before Dana had gone under, she'd told them she would see them all later. Unrest had taken hold, and Rourke had sworn that he'd felt disappointment because of that.

When he reviewed the video footage from the mission and spliced it together over a time index, it had all clicked into place.

Wyatt had shouted out his warning. A full second later, when he was elaborating on it, Dana's Arwing had blasted laserfire into one of the missiles she was chasing, and triggered the reaction that set off the nuclear warheads. But just with that, it could have been coincidental. Circumstantial.

The cockpit video and flight recorder had been what drove the nail into the truth. Dana had hesitated. The camera that looked at her, which transmitted images to the others when she spoke, had caught that pause.

Rourke had watched her close her eyes, mouth two words silently, and pull the trigger.

**Forgive me.**

Never in his life had he ever seen anyone try to…

_And she played it off like nothing happened._

Rourke set the empty glass on his bedstand and slumped back into the room's mattress. Of all the times when he needed Skip's advice the most, he found himself reminded once more how _he_ was now Skip, in every way which mattered but one.

He rolled on his side, feeling the Therka flow through his blood and dull his senses. Out the window was silence, a promise of destruction yet to come, and an eternity to go mad thinking about everything else.

_**The runt's going to cry.**_

His grandfather's harsh laugh bored into his skull, and the rest of the voices came.

Rourke shut his eyes, flattened his ears, and let his rage loose. Therka did what fatigue could not accomplish alone. His body and mind gave out, and the nightmares came.

He destroyed them all, screaming himself hoarse as fang and claw became slick with blood and intestine.

The traitor wolf.


	18. Ships of the Line

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: SHIPS OF THE LINE

**Arwings in the Military-** The Starfox team's exploits had proven the worth of the blue and white combat superiority "Arwing" fighter. Following the mercenary team's retirement, the Cornerian Air Force and Space Defense Forces sought to make the ship that ended the Lylat Wars a permanent part of their arsenal. It is estimated only 15 percent of the SDF's fighter pilots have the physical tolerance and unwavering focus to fly an Arwing. This may be a blessing in disguise. Due to the complexity of the components and the high engineering hallmarks that go into making it, the Arwing is also the most expensive fighter fielded, in every model ever made. The Model K Arwing, for example, costs 220 million credits to build…the same as a medium-sized destroyer.

**(From Parliamentary Records: The testimony of President Slippy Toad, Arspace, to Armed Forces Committee)**

"_**You know, on the surface, the Arwing might seem like a waste of money. Why bother buying one space fighter when you could spend the same amount of money on a bigger ship? But you're forgetting something. When I was with Starfox, there were only four of us. Me, Fox, Falco, and that old damn rabbit always telling us to do barrel rolls. My father gave us the four SFX-1 Arwing prototypes for field testing, and wouldn't you know…those four space fighters took everything Andross threw at us and kept on **_**moving.**_** Nothing drove it home quite as much as when we blasted through Venom's defense fleet in Area 6. He had over fifty capital ships lined up to take us down, and we destroyed every last one of them. A single Arwing is equivalent in power to three battle cruisers. A whole squadron of Arwings can stop a war. When I think of the forty-eight Arwings currently serving across Lylat, I always stop and wonder: How much damage could they do if they all flew together?"**_

* * *

_Cornerian Orbit_

_Wild Fox, Bridge_

_7__th__ day of the Primal War_

_7:45 A.M._

Thomas Dander looked up from the command chair to a digital clock on the wall. Still a half hour before his shift would be over. It had been a quiet night, which had its ups and downs. The _Wild Fox_ ran on a skeleton crew at night, and technically, could have been run and monitored by the robot called ROB all on his own. That had been the AI construct's original function, after all; to manage, control, and even fly the Great Fox during the Lylat Wars. If the old stories were true, the four SFX, or Model 1, Arwings that Fox McCloud and his team had started with received tremendous assistance from that ship during the last push to Venom. The battleships of Andross's defense perimeter, struggling with the Arwings, had also been forced to contend with the turbolasers of the Great Fox, which punched holes through their weakened shields.

The robot was over by the weapons console, but with his wireless uplink, was keenly aware of every system on the ship. With a thought, he could launch an all-out attack or ventilate the entire ship's atmosphere.

Dander suppressed a shiver and reminded himself that the robot was on their side. Or rather, he supported Starfox. Dander, and the rest of the crew from Ursa Station, were more or less along for the ride.

ROB suddenly jerked his head up, and swiveled his visor towards the orange tomcat. "We are receiving a narrow-band compressed transmission from the surface. Should I accept the connection?"

"Where's it coming from?"

"Cornelius AFB." ROB said.

"Yeah, go ahead. Any indication what it's about?"

ROB swiveled his head about, staring off into an idle direction as he allowed the transmission to find a home in the _Wild Fox's_ server. "It appears to be a compressed multi-data package. I am detecting several Arspace Dynamics markers in the file source codes. It is likely that Slippy Toad is using Cornelius AFB as a trusted linkup. Shall I alert the engineering crew in the Hangar Bay?"

"No, just toss a link to it in their inbox. I'll make the call." Dander told the robot. He waited half a beat before adding in a softer voice, "That way, I'll feel like I did something."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Recreational Room_

Rourke held to his routines as a stabilizing influence. As crazy as life had gotten because of the Primals, being put in charge, and everything else under the sun, a little grounding kept him sane. Hand to hand combat training, or sparring as it sometimes was called, was one of them. Though lately, not even that had been enough to keep the storm in his head from boiling over.

He'd actually snapped at Milo the day before. Milo, who was everybody's pal, and so easygoing that nothing ever seemed to unsettle him. Dana was still floating in Dr. Bushtail's chamber of isotopic goop, and would be out of commission for a while longer yet. The simian had vehemently insisted she take a longer than normal soak to ensure her body purged all the residual radiation and repair the damage. Captain Hound and his team mostly kept to themselves, and when Milo had sullenly suggested, after being snapped at by Rourke, that he should help the rookie pilot Wallaby Preen get comfortable with a Seraph's controls, Rourke had let him do it.

That left only Terrany, who had strangely been as distracted as he felt. Something had been eating at her, but Rourke hadn't pressed the issue. It was too likely that if he tried to open her can of worms, she'd dig at his.

Telling Terrany he was suspicious that Dana had tried to kill herself shooting the nuclear missiles down wasn't a road he felt like traveling.

Still, what was left unsaid still found a way to be expressed.

The _Wild Fox's_ Rec Room had exercise equipment on one side and padded floormats on the other with three long mirrors around it. The last O'Donnell and the last McCloud fought against each other, clawing, biting, snarling in a storm of gray and white fur. Neither had moved to reach for their padded gloves or head protectors when they arrived. The two, equally restive pilots had wordlessly gone through their warmup stretches and turned to face one another. Each wanted to vent, fight without needing a reason.

Even as he grunted from a punch she leveled at the side of his ribs, Rourke couldn't shake that thought.

They really were poured from the same mold.

She'd taken to the training Rourke had tried to instill in his team rather well. Even better, she hadn't forgotten any of it after the constant missions they'd been out on. Block the hard blows. Brace yourself for the quick ones. Vary your routines. Your opponent tries a chokehold, you shake him off, no matter what it takes. She was especially good at the last one, considering how their first informal sparring match had gone down.

Rourke leveled a haymaker for the side of her head. Terrany ducked the powerful, but predictable blow and swiveled around in time to block the followthrough roundhouse kick he put out when they traded positions.

A glint of fury burned between them as he rebounded away and she moved on the offensive. She hurled a series of quick jabs and kicks at him, keeping the gray wolf from doing more than dodging aside or blocking them. It had been a maneuver like this the first time they'd met face to face that had given him the opening to put her in a sleeper hold.

Of course, the circumstances were different now. He was more distracted than she was…

And Terrany was learning to read his moves.

Rourke blocked one punch and moved in closer, snaking past her extended arm to tackle her to the mat. Terrany grabbed his wrist with her other arm when he moved in close and rolled backwards, using the momentum of his charge to flip him completely over her. She held on and followed through with the roll, slamming him hard to the mat. By the time the wind was blown out of his lungs, she'd pinned both his arms away from his sides and trapped his ankles underneath her heels. She was also hovering dangerously near above him, with only a few inches separating their sweat-matted undershirts.

Rourke managed to draw in a ragged gulp of air, and some muzzy part of his brain caught on that under different circumstances, this might have felt…

"Get off of me." He grunted, failing to mask the painful wince.

Terrany's nose hovered over his own, drawing in the air Rourke breathed out. The younger pilot stared holes through his eye sockets for a three count, then abruptly pulled back and released his arms and legs from her trap. Rourke let his head fall to the side and coughed. "Frigging Creator."

When he sat up, a white towel slammed into his face. He pulled it off and saw Terrany wiping herself down by the mirror.

"You got slow there at the end, Rourke." She criticized him. "Tired?"

Rourke scrubbed viciously at his headfur and tried to look away from the irritating vixen. Of course, there was another mirror that showed him every detail of how the muscles under that white fur of hers rippled.

"I guess." He grumbled, standing up. "Or you're getting better."

"When did you turn into such a woman?" Terrany snapped. Rourke whipped his head up, and she hit him with a glare. "So I had a better day on the course. The first day we met, you took me down. Maybe we're just taking turns, you ever think of it like that?"

"Aah, geez." Rourke rolled his eyes and moved for the door.

Terrany dashed after him and grabbed him by the arm. Rourke tensed up. "Let go, McCloud."

"The name's Terrany. And no, I'm not. What are you going to do about it? Come at me again?"

Rourke growled loud enough so the sound reverberated around the Rec Room. "I don't have time for this."

"Make time." Terrany barked at him, jerking him back and spinning him around. "Yesterday, you almost tore Milo's damn head off. You're skulking around this ship like someone stepped on your tail. Something's eating at you, and if you don't come clean, I'm going to knock your damn head off until you do."

"It's not your damn business!" Rourke bellowed, ripping his arm away from her. His claws popped out on instinct, and though he held them low and at his sides, she saw them.

She saw a killing intent in him, but she didn't back down. "You're the leader of this team. You hold it together, we fly. You fall apart, we crash and burn. So that **makes it** my damn business."

"You want the big chair, Terrany? You be flight lead!"

"I don't want to be the flight lead, you stupid prick!" She retorted. "I just want to trust whoever is!"

The two stared at each other, and Rourke didn't blink until he saw Terrany flinch and look to the side. "Shut up, Kit."

The last O'Donnell sighed. "KIT talking your ear off again?"

"He likes to try." Terrany looked back at him. "So you going to answer me?"

"Why do I have to tell you?" Rourke asked sullenly.

"Who else you going to talk to?" She replied, giving the first faint hint of a smile. "Who else gets you, O'Donnell?"

Rourke wrapped his towel over his shoulders and nodded. "Fair enough. I don't want to talk about it, but…I'll ease off. It's my problem, I'll handle it. No sense for the rest of you to get caught up in it. I've just got to get my head screwed on right again."

"You going to need some help with that?"

"No, I think I can screw myself." Rourke offered. He blinked twice before his eyes widened, the same as Terrany's. "Um. I meant…you know what I meant." He reached up and scratched at the back of his head, almost wincing as the shock on her face played out.

Terrany let off a soft noise from the back of her throat and gave her lieutenant a soft punch in the shoulder. She rolled her eyes and walked around him, moving for the door. "Hit the showers, Rourke. You need it."

Rourke O'Donnell looked up at the ceiling of the Rec Room and sighed. "Open mouth. Insert foot."

* * *

_Hangar Bay_

"Who wants coffee? I've got a gallon of premium roast, fresh from the galley!" If Ulie seemed more cheerful than usual, it was because the black bear had to be. The engineering teams had been pulling double shifts keeping the Arwings of Starfox operational, and their new project…building an entire new Seraph from scratch…was pushing them to the breaking point.

"Hell, just put it in a saline bag and jam an IV in my arm." One of the mechanics answered wearily. He was working on the starboard wing of the Seraph in progress, and learning all over again why wiring the sleek, streamlined ships was such an expensive and time-consuming procedure.

Ulie ventured over beside the dog-tired canine and flipped out a stack of disposable cups hanging off of his front left belt loop. "Grab one, Sal."

The engineer took a cup and nodded gratefully as Ulie poured him a liberal dose from his jug's spigot.

"A little hair of the dog, eh?" Ulie joked good-naturedly.

Sal rolled his eyes. "Real funny, Ule."

"I don't know, Sal, I thought it was freaking hilarious." A short-haired black and gray tabby smirked from the new Seraph's nose. "Hey, you got a cup for me, Ulie?"

"I've got enough here to kill a goat." The ursine nodded.

"Hey!" A horned mountain goat at the aft thrusters jerked his head upright. "Coffee hasn't killed me yet, boss!"

Ulie rolled his eyes. "I gotta watch what I say around you clowns. How's it coming, anyways?"

"Considering it took us six months to build the first five…not bad." Sal scoffed. "Jeez. Ulie, we're good. Arspace hired us for a reason, but we can't pull off miracles every day here. And you know how tough these bastards are. One criss-crossed wire and the first time this jet tries to Merge, the whole damn thing'll short out and turn into a flying brick. Every time those guys head out on a mission, one of 'em comes back beat to Hell. **Every. Time.**"

"What, you think I don't know that?" Ulie raised an eyebrow. "You don't think Wyatt knows that? We make sure you guys still catch a spell of sleep, which is more than he gets. Or I get. Wasn't long ago I caught Timmons over there…" He pointed an accusing finger towards one of the squirrels, who swallowed and quickly found his G-Diffuser pod most interesting, "…Messing with Wyatt. Who was passed out on top of his computer at the time. We're all tired. We're all running a little short on gas. But Starfox hasn't quit yet, and as long as they're flying, we'll be keeping their planes airborne. You can't hack it, you're welcome to quit. You're here because you were the best engineers, handpicked by Wyatt to work on Project Seraphim. Don't go giving him second thoughts."

_"Hot DAMN, Gramps!"_ Came an exuberant shout from the Hangar Bay's offices, nearly rattling the loose screws around the ship in progress. Everybody winced when Wyatt Toad's voice whooped triumphantly and descended into almost maniacal cackling.

All eyes turned to Ulie. The black bear sighed and set the coffee down on a mostly empty worktable with the cups. "I know, I know."

"Never a dull moment around here." Sal exhaled. "Not with a Toad."

"You boys and girls keep doing what you're doing. I might as well go see what our fearless leader's salivating over." Ulie advised them.

He caught the reflection of their farewell salute as he trudged across the metallic deck plating of the Hangar Bay, and confined his smile; Only the mechanics could flip their boss off and get away with it.

The noise of power drills, arc welders and effusive cursing faded away when Ulie stepped into the enclosed workshop and office spaces and closed the door. Wyatt was in his usual spot when he was stuck in the offices; twirling about on a rolling easy chair, staring at his touch-sensitive displays. He didn't look up when Ulie clicked the door shut, or show any sign of recognizing his counterpart's presence. It was a habit he'd apparently picked up from his grandfather: The ability to tune out anything not related to the task at hand. Ulie soothed his bruised feelings by reminding himself he'd done it to the military personnel aboard a;sp, like General Grey.

During a briefing.

Ulie reached into his pocket and pulled out a weighty credit coin. He calculated the arc, then hurled it across the room, bouncing it off of Wyatt's billed cap.

The chief engineer of the _Wild Fox_ let out a surprised warble and reared away from his screen, twirling his bulbous eyes about wildly until he spotted Ulie by the door. "Ulie? Gah, you scared the daylights out of me!"

"Some people take up golfing. My sport's a little less expensive." Ulie waggled his eyebrows. "We heard you all the way out on the floor, chief."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I was a little noisy there." Wyatt admitted. He swiveled his screen around partways. "But take a look at this!"

Not about to ignore his curiosity, Ulie Darkpaw walked over and leaned over Wyatt's chair. "Something from Arspace Headquarters?" He asked, noting the digital watermark in the corner of the blueprint.

"Damn right." Wyatt beamed. "Grandpa pulled another miracle out of his ass. I thought he was done with 'em after he handed over command of Project Seraphim's mechanics and design to me, but he still finds ways to poke his stubby nose in it. It's a modification to the bomb launcher. Well, not so much a modification…as ripping it out and going modular."

"What, modular bombs?"

"No, you…Ulie. Modular weapons bay." Wyatt explained curtly. "Think of it like this. You want bombs? We load in a bomb launcher. Or we could put in this instead."

Ulie stared closer. "Missiles? No…wait. Wait a minute." He blinked. "Are those…no, those can't be…" He looked from the screen to Wyatt for confirmation. "Is that a _Godsight Pod launcher?_"

"Precisely." Wyatt giggled. "Ohhh, lord. I should've seen this coming. Gramps beat me to the punch. I'd been wondering if there wasn't a way to make this happen. You didn't go showing him my logs, did you?"

"Hand of the Creator, chief, I haven't said dick to Mr. Toad."

Ulie scratched at his head. "All right. So…the Seraphs carry around this launcher, and they can shoot out Godsight Pods. Four of them, if I'm reading that schematic right."

"Yup."

"And then…what, they just hover around the Seraph, sticking to their shields?"

"Yup. Rotating via a sympathetic bond with the diffusion field, when they're not holding stationary position around the combat zone." Wyatt made a small noise which could have been a laugh. "Funny. Did you know that the attractive properties of an Arwing's diffusion field have been known since my gramps flew in the Lylat Wars? They just kind of gave up on it. Leave it to the military to ignore everything that doesn't cause an explosion."

"So how does that help them, exactly?" Ulie asked. "Without smart bombs, without the capacity for G-Bombs, you're severely weakening them. We've seen the kind of stuff the Primals throw out. There's been times, that lunar training mission included, where that extra punch made all the difference."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Wyatt quickly brushed the complaint aside. "But look at it from this perspective. I don't figure every one of 'em is going to go for this. Neither did gramps."

"What's the point of them, anyhow?" Ulie prodded.

Wyatt smiled. "When they're Merged, the pilots process data and react at supernal speed. Battlefield awareness, right? So what happens if they have four extra cameras that suddenly let them look in whichever direction they want? **Wherever** they want?"

The flashbulb in Ulie's brain went off like a firework. Wyatt leaned back in his chair and drummed his webbed fingers together.

"You really are crazy." Ulie finally stammered.

Wyatt's throat pouch expanded proudly. "Crazy like a toad." He got out of his chair. "You tell the work teams not to worry about this. I know they've got their hands full making the new Seraph for that rookie in the 21st, and an overhaul this major is going to require that we take the whole squadron offline for two days, at the least. The general'd have my wonderfully misshapen head if I did that without his okay."

Ulie nodded. "That'll take some pressure off of the boys. They're getting edgy anyhow." The ursine jammed his hands into the pockets of his work coveralls. "Still…this new one we're making…I don't think we've put in the bomb launcher yet."

Wyatt closed his eyes and smiled. "No sense putting it in if we're just going to take it out later, right?"

"If you want, chief, I could have 'em…do a test build of this…modular weapons bay. Wouldn't be much extra work at this stage."

"You go ahead and do that." Wyatt waved him towards the door. "I'll call Pugs in the mess and see if he can't get us some pizzas down here for lunch. No sense working hungry."

"No sense at all." Ulie winked.

* * *

_Medical Bay_

_8:32 A.M._

When Terrany walked in the door, Dr. Bushtail had his face buried in an old-fashioned file cabinet. He waved a hand towards the door. "I'll be a minute more. Take a seat."

Terrany looked over to the capsule full of milky white liquid. Dana's face was barely visible through the cloudy mix, connected to an oxygen mask that kept her sedated and breathing. "You don't sleep much, do you? When you letting her out of there, doc?"

"Later today." The simian slammed the open drawer shut, walking over with a manila file folder under one arm. "I would think you'd be more concerned about yourself though, Miss McCloud."

The suggestion caught Terrany by surprise. "Why?"

Dr. Bushtail was even less cheerful than usual. He dropped the file on his desk and sat down, looking at her with a level stare. "Are you broadcasting to KIT on that earring of yours?"

Terrany fingered the small stud that housed the two-way transceiver she used to keep in contact with KIT outside of the cockpit. "Well, yeah. Put it in when I got up this morning, same as usual."

"I want you to take it out for a bit."

"Why?" Terrany asked.

Bushtail didn't blink. "Humor me."

Terrany thought about it for a bit, then whispered an apology to KIT before complying with the directive. She put the earring in the breast pocket of her ageworn brown flight jacket and sat down in one of the doctor's visitor's chairs. "All right, he's offline. So what's bothering you?"

"In between compiling medical records for the 21st for their stay aboard the _Wild Fox_ and making sure that Miss Tiger won't die of radiation poisoning in a year's time, I had the chance to go over the flight recorder data from your last outing. Specifically, the Electroencephalogram readings and your Merge biometrics."

He opened up the folder and slid a graph across. It showed a long line of high peaks and shorter, very brief falls.

"This is a chart of your synchronization ratios from the time you started flying with Seraph Flight on Ursa Station." The monkey explained. "Early on, you can see you started out pretty low. Then again, considering your AI was KIT…who we now know is the consciousness of Falco Lombardi…that's hardly surprising. He never did play well with others in life, from the old accounts." He pointed to a solid yellow line that cut across the graph, halfway up from the origin. "To Merge, as you know, pilots require a 60 percent synchronization ratio with their AI. You spiked at 62 percent when Ursa Station came under attack, and Merged for the first time. It took me a while to compile your data after that, what with moving in here."

Terrany nodded attentively, but only half listened. Even as he went mission by mission, her focus wasn't on his voice, but that yellow line that marked the Merge threshold.

And how her EEG almost constantly danced above it.

When they recovered the _Wild Fox_ from its drydock in Meteo. The Merge there went to 65 percent.

At Corneria, when she didn't Merge, the synch ratio was still that high, up until she was shot down. At Venom, she didn't Merge again, but her helmet still shocked her.

Aquas, and then the lunar mission, the last big jump.

Eighty one percent. Her personal best.

Sherman tapped the surface of his desk loudly, and Terrany jerked her head back up.

"I could just smack you in the head." Bushtail grumbled.

Terrany's ears flattened back. "Sorry. I was just…thinking."

"The first reasonable thing I've heard out of you in two days." Sherman pulled the chart back. "The fact of the matter is, nobody else on your squadron has posted synch ratios anywhere near as high as you. Rourke, who's second best, is a full twelve points lower than you. That in itself isn't what worries me. You've come in before complaining about pains." The simian tapped his skull. "When you're not Merged and your ratio's that high, the pain you're feeling is synaptic feedback. The system is clashing with your consciousness, and since you're not Merging, the resistance is what's giving you headaches."

"Is that common?"

"To be honest, I don't know." Sherman grumbled. "These Seraphs and Merge Mode are still in the testing phase. I don't have enough baseline data to do a good comparison, just the rest of your squadron. But you're different. One, nobody synchs as well as you do. And two, you're not synchronizing with any old blank A.I. The ODAIs, they tailor themselves after their pilots. In your case, you're blending with another full consciousness."

"Kit and I both worried that we'd lose our minds at first, but that hasn't happened yet." Terrany rationalized. "But…"

She fell silent, and Dr. Bushtail sighed.

"This isn't the time to hold back. I need to know what's happening."

"I asked you…if it was normal for thoughts to bleed over once."

"And I told you…" Bushtail cut himself off midsentence. "It happened again?"

Eyes downcast, Terrany nodded. "Yeah. Before the Merge. I heard him talking. But he didn't say anything."

Bushtail exhaled loudly.

Terrany still didn't look up. "I thought that it would quit doing that. I mean, we adjusted the Merge settings…"

"We adjusted them so the ship wouldn't try to link you and KIT if your synch ratio wasn't high enough to Merge." The doctor cut her off. "But at the synch ratio you two are capable of, that precaution just isn't enough. You don't want to Merge, but once you're over 60 percent, it's going to keep trying."

"So what can we do about it?" She asked quietly.

Dr. Bushtail reached a hand across his desk and patted the back of her hand. "For now, I'd suggest that you try flying with your Merge Mode program offline. If it's possible, that is. As long as it's up, if you and KIT keep flying like you have been, that machine is going to keep trying to make you fly as one. It's inherent to the ship, or so Wyatt tells me. Everything is built around the Merge protocols. Otherwise, just do what you can to try and deal with it."

"Take two aspirin and call you in the morning?" Terrany joked, looking back up. Her eyes shone more than they usually did, souring her smile.

Dr. Bushtail ran a hand over his scalp. "Out of all the pilots I know, nobody flies like you do. Nobody handles Merge Mode as well as you do. And nobody crashes as hard afterwards. The pain after you de-Merge…did it ever ease off?"

Silently, Terrany shook her head no. _It did for everyone else, didn't it,_ died in her mind, a thought she didn't say aloud.

"I'll figure it out, Terrany." The physician vowed. "I promise you, I'll figure it out."

She sniffled a bit and drew a hand over her eyes, wiping the tears away. "You're not as cold-hearted as you pretend to be, are you?"

Sherman Bushtail leaned back in his chair and looked over to Dana Tiger, still comatose in the isotopic bath.

"You said I didn't sleep much. You were right about that."

* * *

_Command Planning Center_

_8:55 A.M._

"And this is the latest, then?" Grey asked.

On the other end of the secure laser-based transmission, General Kagan in the CSC nodded. _"You know what we do now. I know that I gave you free reign on where Starfox goes for their missions, but…"_

"Don't worry, Winthrop." Grey waved off his former student's concerns. "I agree with you. How much time do we have, again?"

_"We estimate that they'll reach the tango line in three hours. Based on what we got off of the satellite network, that's the low end of it."_

"We'll be ready for them. Just do me a favor."

_"Name it."_

"Don't tell our boys we're coming." Grey ordered. "Let's see how badly we can surprise the Primals this time."

_"Done and done. Is Starfox ready for action?"_

"Dana Tiger's still in treatment, but the rest of the squadron's good to go. And the 21st is getting a little eager as well."

_"Six Arwings. And more when you get there." _Kagan laughed. _"Creator above, those Primals aren't going to like this."_

"That's what we're going for." Grey checked the wall clock. "I've got my briefing for the pilots in a couple of minutes, Winthrop. Best let you go."

_"All right. Good hunting, Arnold."_ The holographic representation of the lynx disappeared. Grey sat back in his chair and waited for his pilots to arrive for the briefing.

Captain Hound and his team filtered in first, dressed in their flightsuits and ready to go. The three came to attention and threw General Grey a salute.

"Reporting as ordered, General." Captain Hound announced crisply.

Grey saluted back and gestured to the seats around the table. "You're early. That's a quality I like to see in those under my command." _If only O'Donnell was as attentive to the clock_, he told himself. Grey clawed the thought away and resumed his focus. "So how's the _Wild Fox_ treating you all?"

"It's quite a ship, sir." Hound admitted. "Your people handle it well…though they're a bit more laid back than I'm used to."

"Civilians." Grey muttered in agreement. "At least things somewhat follow protocol on the bridge. My XO has a lot to do with that." Grey cleared his throat. "So, Wallaby, correct? What's your rank again?"

"Second Airman, general." Wallaby replied.

"Right, right. Sergeant Granger's been teaching you the mechanics behind the Seraph. What do you think about it?"

"Well, it's…" Wallaby stalled as he reached for a diplomatic answer. "I love its abilities, but I'm not too keen on sharing my brain with a computer. Even if Milo said it wasn't too bad."

"Well, you'll either get used to it or go crazy."

Wallaby swallowed. "Has that…happened?"

Damer guffawed and slapped his wingman's back. "He's yanking your tail, rookie."

"Aww, geez." Wallaby grumbled, embarrassed.

Grey dug for his pipe. "What I won't joke about is that you'll get your first real opportunity to fly and fight in one of them today." He looked up at the clock, which blinked **9:02.** "Provided that the Starfox team gets here soon enough for the briefing, that is."

As if he had cued them, Rourke, Milo, and Terrany strolled in through the door.

"Speak of the devil." Damer muttered under his breath.

"I recall saying that the briefing was going to start at nine on the dot." Grey said by way of a greeting.

"Sorry, general." Terrany apologized. Her eyes were slightly red, but she didn't seem any different otherwise. "Won't happen again."

"Well, it might." Rourke chimed in. "But we like making promises like that anyhow."

Milo merely shrugged and held up a pastry box. "I brought scones."

"Well, as long as you brought enough for the whole class." Grey rolled his eyes. "Take a seat. We've got a mission to talk about."

The three Starfox pilots took chairs opposite of the 21st, leaving General Grey at the end of the table with nobody sitting across from him. Wallaby was the first one to reach for a scone from the box, prompting a knowing smile from Milo and a scowl of disapproval from his own CO. Grey, used to the theatrics, dimmed the lights and brought the holographic display online.

"We'll start with some old news first. Wyatt was more excited about this than I expect you'll be, Terrany, but that modified G-Bomb you used to stop the last wave of nukes at Lunar Base has been something of a godsend to the astrophysicists in Corneria City; the video footage from your flight recorder data is being used to corroborate their ideas about what happens to objects that approach a black hole, _"and the temporal dilation and lensing effects as it approaches the event horizon."_ Whatever that means. The latest from Dr. Bushtail in the Medical Bay is that Dana Tiger will be awakened and released later on today, but she'll be in no shape to fly this next mission. Since the Seraph that Wyatt Toad and his team are building for Second Airman Preen isn't ready, and won't be for some time, Wallaby will be taking Dana's Seraph on today's sortie."

"You haven't even said where we're going yet, sir." Rourke argued.

"And if you weren't so damn impatient, I'd be getting to it." Grey shot back, matching the former space pirate blow for blow. The projection switched to an image of the Lylat System, and then zoomed in on the foggy green nebula known as Sector Y. The closest of the gaseous nebulas to Corneria, it had been created nearly a century prior after a failed space defense battlestation's power reactor went critical and blew it apart. The lessons of that failure had later led to the Bolse space station, which was destroyed in the Lylat Wars.

"As you all know, a general recall order was given to all remaining SDF ships to regroup at Sector Y. That nebula's location along the subspace routes makes it a prime staging point for any attack aimed at Corneria, and gives it access to other planets in the central region of the habitable zone as well. Cornerian Space Command has assigned this position as the Tango Line. The 4th Fleet has almost finished regrouping with the added forces that escaped destruction, and they will very soon begin operations to take the fight to the Primals, much as we are. Of course, the Primals know that."

The display of the Fleet in Sector Y froze and shifted to the side. A static snapshot image, slightly grainy from the resolution, appeared in the center focus.

It looked like a swarm of glowing stars and vapor trails, following in the wake of countless menacing ships.

"This image was taken by one of our systemwide spy satellites. The Primals have been shooting them down when they find them, but they've missed a few, and a good thing. Just so it's clear, you're looking at a force of Primal firepower that absolutely dwarfs the assets we have in place at Sector Y, taking off from Macbeth. The betting money says that they've converted Macbeth's production capabilities to increase their forces, much as Andross did 75 years ago. Assuming that their speed in FTL remains constant, SDF Command expects that this Primal armada will reach Sector Y within three hours."

The holographic display disappeared, and the room's lights came back on. Grey blinked when he saw that every pilot had a scone in their hands, and was munching away. He shook his head and pushed on. "That's today's mission, team. We have to get to Sector Y on the double and reinforce them. The Primals are bringing a force to exterminate the last bit of resistance we've got left. We don't know how many ships the Primals are bringing, but the safe money says a lot. There are two other Arwing flights present within the 4th Fleet: The 5th and 17th Squadrons. I can guarantee they'll need all the help they can get." He twirled his unstuffed, unlit corncob pipe in his mouth and folded his hands together. "Any questions?"

"The _Wild Fox_ will be coming along on this one, then?" Terrany piped up.

Grey nodded. "Yes. Though it will leave Corneria temporarily undefended by a sizable presence, I've reached the conclusion that saving the 4th Fleet will be better in the long run. Once this threat's been quelled, the Fleet can disperse some assets to take our place."

"Letting us do what we do best…take the fight to the Primals." Rourke summarized. "All right."

"My men and I are ready, sir." Captain Hound said, far more formally. "We're ready for this."

"For your sake, I hope so, captain." Grey tapped a claw on the table. "Not even our own fleet knows we're coming to the party. The element of surprise stands in our favor for this. Don't go screwing it up." He looked around the table. "Any other questions?" When none came, Grey pounded his hand on the wooden surface flat-palm style and stood up. "All right. Get suited up and report to the Hangar Bay. As soon as we drop out of FTL, you'll launch and form up. And if you're feeling nervous, try to get it out of your system now. Not that I worry too much, but panic is your worst enemy in a space battle." His last bit of advice was more of a warning than a suggestion. To their credit, the pilots all nodded with the wisdom behind it, even though it almost went without saying.

The deck was stacked against them, by sheer numbers. Only the Arwings and ferocious hearts could equal the push.

* * *

_Bridge_

_9:18 A.M._

With General Grey back on the bridge and in command, XO Dander was off duty and taking a much deserved rest. Grey thought about calling the orange tabby for the mission's duration, but he decided against it. The rest of the bridge crew, which was on normal duty rotation, would suffice. He knew them, and they knew him. The funny thing was, even though they had all been put on Project Seraphim to oversee Ursa Station, they were doing remarkably well serving on the _Wild Fox_. Maybe it was the setting, after all. This ship seemed to inspire greatness in those who came in contact with it.

Woze was also off the clock, which meant Sasha was pulling the full weight of running communications. The soft-nosed bat trilled for a moment before pulling her headphones off of her thin and floppy ears.

"Cornelius AFB just gave us clearance to depart, General. Pepper AFB has set up covering patrols, and will have two SDF Cruisers in orbit shortly."

"Good." Grey marked that off his mental list of concerns. They had places to be, but protecting Corneria was paramount. "Updraft, break orbit and set a course for Sector Y."

"Aye, general!" The red cardinal saluted sharply with his right wing and took hold of the controls.

"Hogsmeade, any enemy contacts in the vicinity?"

"Negative, general. The MIDS array shows no unidentified objects within 1.5 CU of Corneria. I think we're good."

"Handy damn gadget, that." Grey muttered to nobody in particular. "ROB, give me a ship systems check."

Over at weapons, his usual station when not attending to some other part of the ship, ROB raised a mechanical hand. "All weapons systems are at the ready. Lylus-class cruise missile supply has been replenished and the impulse vacuum drive shows no anomalies. Shields at maximum, and the warp gate generator is fully charged. _Wild Fox_ is ready to go."

"A day when nothing wrong is happening." Grey mused, gnawing on his pipe. It remained unlit, as he wasn't stressed at all. He triggered the ship's intercom. **"Attention all personnel. We are heading out. Go to general quarters. I repeat, go to general quarters."**

He pulled his thumb off the squawk button and looked back to the main viewscreen, which showed the familiar sight of empty space marred by tiny dots of light. Faintly in the distance, he could make out a larger looking star that glowed with a sickly green hue.

No star at all, but the Sector Y Nebula. Their destination.

"We've broken orbit, General. Course laid in." Updraft announced.

Grey had to smile. This was what they were here for. To go where they were needed. To strike hard and fast. To scatter the Primals and take back Lylat.

He motioned forward with his index and middle finger pressed together. "Let's burn space tracks."

In a burst of light, the _Wild Fox_ disappeared from Cornerian airspace and screamed towards oblivion.

* * *

_Venom Airspace_

The _Burnout_ fighters that they had all been ace pilots in were good ships, but the forked craft they were flying in now put it to shame.

Captain Telemos barely felt the vibration as he crossed from subsonic to supersonic speed. The shockwave of compressed air in his wake faded quickly, and the forward-angled wings folded back on themselves. They aligned with the rear ailerons and forward stabilizer fins to form a diamond delta wing around the cockpit. Were he to punch the brakes, they would fold back out to increase his maneuverability.

"Phoenix Flight, converge on my wing." Telemos ordered. It was their fourth sortie in the new ships in fewer days, and the advanced pace was allowing them to learn very quickly. Considering how rapidly Starfox was moving, and how their continued resistance inspired the rest of the Lylatians, that frenzied learning curve was required.

His wingmen, callsigns Saber, Nome, and Flint, responded quickly to the formation order. The Phoenix fighters looked more imposing flying next to each other through the cloudy olive green and rusty brown atmosphere of the planet.

"Coming up on the target range." Phoenix 2 announced.

"Engage weapons systems." Telemos ordered. He reached to a toggle by his thruster controls and flipped it up. With a hum of power, the master arm switch activated the missile bays and the massive laser cannon that hung between the forks of his nose.

His weapons panel made him smile. Command had authorized a full load on this run. The missile bays, which utilized a forgotten technology called "Space folding", reported that all 32 NIFT-29 Corona space-capable missiles were ready for use.

The ancestors must have been true geniuses.

"All right, men." Telemos set his thumb and forefinger on the triggers of his stick. "Let's show Command that we have what it takes. Pick your corridor and get busy."

"Phoenix 3, going left."

"Phoenix 4, going right." Nome and Flint eased off from behind Phoenix 1. Phoenix 2, Saber, stayed next to his superior.

"I'll cover what you miss, captain."

Telemos smiled. "You may get bored, Saber. Try to keep up."

Three miles ahead of Phoenix Flight, training targets armed with defensive weaponry popped up from the surface. They assumed the posture of aerial combatants, with shell signatures to match.

The drones unleashed their first salvo of laserfire, prompting warning alerts to come to life. Telemos gripped the control stick tighter.

"Phoenix Squadron…engage!"

* * *

_Sector Y (The Tango Line)_

_The Flagship __**Vigilant**_

Admiral Bearnam Markinson had been put in charge of the 4th Fleet two years prior. Before the arrival of the Primals, his duties primarily revolved around patrolling the space lanes of Katina and Papetoon. The panda had cut his teeth on the Papetoon Insurrection, and proven himself a capable organizer and tactician. He lacked the fighting spirit that was so common among his peers, though, and thus was not lauded by the men under his command. Admiral Markinson had never been as popular as Brad Howlings had been.

Of course, all that popularity hadn't saved the aviators and crews who'd been in the 7th Fleet under the man.

Now, it was Markinson's turn to face the wrath of the invaders.

He looked to the captain of the ship, responsible for overseeing the more mundane aspects so Markinson could focus on the entire fleet. The captain tipped his hat up. "The _Vigilant_ is ready for battle, Admiral."

"As ready as it can be. As any of us can be." Markinson replied evenly. He looked to the radioman. "Hail the fleet. Ask for a readiness report. Won't be much longer now before the shooting starts."

Markinson ignored the command chair when Captain Gireau offered it, and instead paced around the top of the bridge. More than a few members of the bridge crew looked towards the panda nervously, expecting some verbal riposte. Instead, he shook his head and folded his hands behind his back. "Carry on, men. Just ignore me."

Reinforcements…or rather, the scraps of SDF power that had survived the first wave of Primal attacks at their various planetary posts had gathered here, following the general reformation order. The re-emergence of the Starfox Team had been a godsend to the 4th Fleet, as the Primals would have surely attacked them much sooner. Instead, Starfox had pushed right to the heart of their conquered domain and attacked the Primals on their so-called home soil, forcing them to pull back assets to defend what was most important.

No reprieve lasted forever. At least it had given him time enough to make the 4th Fleet more considerable in strength. They did not have as many ships as the 7th Fleet had wielded at Aquas, and in truth, had only one major advantage at its disposal: Two squadrons of Arwings. The 17th "Raptor" Squadron with four Arwings, and the 5th "Typhoon" Squadron with five.

Nine Model K Arwings were the hedged bet that Admiral Markinson found himself forced with. Nine Arwings, three _Relentless_ class dreadnoughts, his _Harbinger _class spacecraft carrier that served as the flagship and its complement of 60 Arbiter spacefighters, and fourteen smaller _Gryphon_ class destroyers. Compared to what SDF Command had told him was coming, they were outnumbered almost three to one.

Admiral Markinson kept the unspoken sentiment in his heart locked away tight, far from his suppressed features. _It's not going to be enough._

"Admiral?" The radio operator looked up. "The Fleet reports all ships are ready, and awaiting your command."

Markinson swallowed softly. "Very well. Captain Gireau, let's get our boys launched while we can."

"Aye-aye, admiral." Gireau sat back down in the command chair his superior had refused and toggled the intercom. **"All pilots, prepare for launch. Repeat, all Arbiter crews, prepare for launch."**

Admiral Markinson lurched down to the central pavilion of the bridge. "It'll be one Hell of a fight, that's for sure." He told Gireau. The rainbow-billed toucan smiled and tilted his head to the side slightly.

"Let's try to live through it then, admiral. I'd love to tell people about this when it's all said and done."

"Every member of this Fleet's probably thinking the same thing." Markinson mused. He kept his eyes glued to the forward-facing viewscreens, which showed pair after pair of Arbiter spacefighters rocketing out of the fighter bay underneath the topdeck and superstructure. They moved quickly, as keenly aware of the ticking clock as the commanders in the Fleet. "We'll give 'em a fight, that much I can promise you. I won't know where to position our forces exactly until the enemy shows up." He wasn't lying about that; they roughly knew the Primals' flight path, but until they got in close enough to detect via subspace sensors, they were running blind. As soon as they got a fix, the Fleet would reorganize.

A loud beeping from the radar and sensor station gained the attention of everybody. The officer in charge of it was wide-eyed. "Sir, I have a ship incoming to our position!"

"A Primal ship? Already?" Markinson demanded. His mind turned the possibility's meaning over. If it was a Primal scout, it might intend to gain a bead on the situation and warn the other ships of the odds stacked against them. Even the few moments that the Primals would spend evaluating the 4th Fleet were a precious commodity.

"No, sir!" The operator responded. "The ship is FTL, and its course…It's probably from Corneria, Admiral."

Markinson narrowed his eyes. _Corneria?_

"Just the one ship?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. Just one."

Markinson stood beside Captain Gireau's chair. "Time to intercept?"

"Estimate one minute, sir."

"That's about all the warning we'll get for the inbound Primals as well." Captain Gireau told Markinson quietly.

They waited quietly for the Cornerian ship to drop out of FTL drive and reveal itself. The seconds ticked by, broken only by the muffled vibrations as more Arbiters launched and took up position around the _Vigilant_, joining the nine Arwings who became the leaders of the aerial combatants by default.

"Ship decelerating. Dropping out of subspace in three…two…one."

In a sudden blur of motion, a massive white and silver ship appeared, slowing to a gentle cruise. Even before the radio operator exclaimed excitedly he was receiving a unique IF/F signature, every Lylatian who saw it knew what it was, and what it meant.

_"Fourth Fleet, this is General Arnold Grey aboard the _Wild Fox._ The Starfox Team is here to assist."_

"Hot damn!" The weapons officer whooped, igniting a chorus of cheers that seemed to echo through the ship from every corner. "Starfox? Now we're in business!"

Markinson grinned through clenched teeth. "Right cocky bastards, aren't they?" He muttered.

"Can't think of anybody else I'd want on my side in this furball." Captain Gireau replied.

Admiral Markinson activated the ship's video link, and opened a connection to the _Wild Fox._ General Grey and the rest of the bridge crew appeared, smiling at them.

_"Admiral Markinson. General Kagan sends his regards. I thought you might like a little extra help for this one."_

"Well, long as you're here." Markinson downplayed the gesture, but didn't hide his smile. "I thought you'd be off trying to liberate planets already."

_"One step at a time, Bear." _Grey shot back. _"First things first: Getting what's left of the SDF up and moving again." _Grey looked offscreen for a bit, conferring with his crew through a muted connection. _"I'm having our people send you a data package. It's an upgrade for your communications software. The Primals know how to hack into our radio frequencies. Optical communications are more secure and reliable. We've been using them since our sortie on Venom."_

"Receiving a data transmission, Admiral." The radio operator called out.

Markinson reacted quickly. "Upload it to the ship's systems and make sure every other ship in the fleet gets a copy. Arwings and Arbiters included, you got that?"

"Yes, sir!"

_"Admiral, I know you're a brilliant tactician, but I'm going to ask you for something you may not like."_

"…Well, go ahead and ask me, then."

_"The 5__th__ and 17__th__ Arwing squadrons. I'd ask that you turn command of them over to me. The _Wild Fox_ can handle Arwing operations quite efficiently."_

Markinson winced. "They're our best asset."

_"Exactly. Put your Arbiters on defense, let the Arwings do what they do best. Hunt."_

The panda sighed. "You've got a plan, then? I'm guessing you do, if you want my nine Arwings to go along with your four."

_"My six, actually."_ Grey corrected him, smiling.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Launch Bay_

The four Seraph Arwings descended from the floor of the Hangar Bay down into the long, tunnel-like launch bay. Their tails secured by powerful magnetic clamps, they were lowered into position and stilled.

Rourke cued up his radio. "All right, team. Tell me how you're feeling."

With Rourke in position 1 on the left of the bay, Milo in position 4 on the starboard side sounded in first. "Milo here. Good to go, lieutenant."

"Uh…Wallaby, Mr. O'Donnell. The ODAI is telling me all systems are green." The marsupial from the 21st squadron was flying in Dana's aircraft, and though he seemed a bit nervous, he was holding it together. Rourke looked over his shoulder and through his canopy to the Seraph Arwing beside him in launch position 2.

Terrany swiveled her head left and looked back at him, giving him a thumbs up. "Ready to tear it up, Rourke?"

Her eagerness for battle made him crack a smile. "Might as well."

**"Starfox, you are go for launch."** ROB's voice cut over their radios.

Rourke cued up his thrusters and brought the fusion generator to full power. The Arwing began to rattle slightly as it built up speed, struggling against the clamps that held it down.

"Let's do this, then."

**"As soon as you're clear, you are to form up with the other Arwings and take point. Captain Hound and Damer Ostwind will follow you shortly. Good luck, Starfox."**

The magnetic locks disengaged, and free of the restraint, the Seraph Arwings tore down the corridor and out of the _Wild Fox._ Once in open space, Rourke reached for his wing controls and took them from launch position to interceptor mode. The others duplicated the maneuver.

The four Arwings flew around the 4th Fleet's ships, following their radar and the digitally created marker towards the nine Arwings of the 5th and 17th Squadrons. Terrany whistled appreciatively over the radio as they cut around the ships.

"Geez, would you look at all this firepower?"

"Don't get too excited." Wallaby answered glumly. "The 7th Fleet had more ships than this, and we got torn apart."

"This Fleet has something that the 7th didn't, son." Milo reminded the rookie gently. "It has us. And them."

As their powerful engines took them beyond the fringe of the Tango Line, the HUDs of the Seraphs lit up with gentle blue boxes around nine ships ahead of them.

Their radios crackled with the sound of Captain Hound's voice.

_"All right, Starfox, Argen and I are on your tail. You'd better watch my boy's ass out here, you got that?"_

Rourke chuckled. "I read you, captain. Don't worry. He'll do fine. Besides, I figured you'd yell at him if he doesn't."

_"You've got that right. Don't lose your situational awareness out here, Preen. It's easy to get disoriented in a space battle, you remember that!"_

Rourke had other voices pestering him as well. **"Boss, the Wild Fox just launched their GSP Missiles. Should I link up?" **His ODAI actually sounded professional for a change.

"Yeah, go ahead, as soon as I finish one last regular broadcast." Rourke switched to the open military channel, wanting everyone to hear him. "This is Lieutenant Rourke O'Donnell, flight lead of the Starfox Team. 5th and 17th Squadrons, did you get your new flying orders?"

_"Captain Vic Corman, 17__th__ Flight Lead. Yeah, we got it, Starfox. Don't get it, but we'll be on your six."_

_ "Captain Pete Mulholland, 5__th__ Squadron commander. You have a plan?"_

"First off, you all should have gotten a new communications software package from the Fleet. General Grey said he'd forward it along to everyone. It'll allow you to link up with the Godsight Pod optical communications network. The Primals can hack our radio frequencies, but the GSP's laserlink leaves 'em clueless. Go ahead and do that, then sound in on Channel 46 with your optical linkup when you're done."

Rourke let ODAI switch his radio over to the more secure broadcast network and drew in closer. The 5th and 17th squadrons fell in line behind Starfox and the 21st, creating a massive Delta-V of fifteen Arwings jutting out from the 4th Fleet.

His radio beeped at him, and clear as day, the Arwings they'd come to reinforce chimed in.

"Captain Korman again. Nice little trick, Starfox."

"The 5th Squadron's up and running on your frequency."

"Probably doesn't need repeating, but the 21st is good to go as well." Captain Hound added.

"All right." Now Rourke was smiling. The funny thing was, he could hear the excitement over the airwaves as the other Arwing pilots announced their own success in connecting to the GSP network. Several of the small satellites were soaring on ahead of them, taking advantage of the open conflict-free space to achieve their desired altitudes.

There was an electricity that was running through every single Arwing in their pack. A resurgent hope that it was no longer a matter of _maybe_, but _how much_ they would succeed by.

The Arwings were more than the prime supremacy spacefighter of the Cornerian Space Defense Forces. They were a living symbol, an emblem whose legacy stretched back to the age of Andross.

"Everybody, the Primals are going to be here quicker than we think, so I'll just keep it straight. There's fifteen of us Arwings. The Primals don't know that we're here, and we're going to make them pay for it. They thought they could roll in here and wipe out the 4th Fleet like they did the 7th. But the thing is, they're starting to hurt. This is our chance to strike a blow. You want to take the fight to the Primals? You want to win back the Lylat System? It starts here. Now. We're going to be the spear that drives right into the heart of this Primal Armada. The rest of the Fleet's going to be on the defensive. We get to do what the Arwing does best: Run and gun. Look out for one another. Keep in pairs, if you can. Watch out for your wingmen. As of right now, your squadron designations don't mean anything. You're Arwing pilots, the best of the best. Let's show 'em how we do business."

A chorus of whoops and cheers splashed over the radio from the other squadrons.

"Hey, that wasn't too bad of a speech, lieutenant." Milo complimented him, using Starfox's private frequency.

"Nah." Rourke shrugged off the praise. "Skip could've done a better job."

"Maybe. But he would have taken forever to make his point. You just said it straight on." Terrany said. "Skip had his style of command, Rourke, and you have yours. You said what you needed to. Now we get to work."

* * *

_Flagship Vigilant_

Admiral Markinson could feel the undercurrent of power that the arrival of Starfox had brought. Even better, General Grey's strategy of Arwings out front and the capital ships on support was almost exactly what he'd planned.

Grey just happened to bring along six more Arwings, four of them being the dreaded Seraphs. The Godsight Pods array, which was only seconds from full deployment, would make a major difference as well. The Primals would be running blind to their operations.

An engagement he had been dreading had suddenly been turned into a fighting chance. More than a fighting chance.

There had been 48 Arwings deployed throughout Lylat when this mess had started. Including the Seraphs, a third of that number now flew as the first attack wave.

"This is the bet of a lifetime." Markinson muttered, smiling softly. He looked to the radio operator. "Are all ships running on this new optical frequency?"

"Yes, sir. I don't know who programmed the new package, but it's running like a dream."

"I'll bet you anything that Arspace had a hand in it." Captain Gireau laughed.

"Mm. They usually do." Markinson agreed. "Patch me through to the fleet. Conference call with the _Wild Fox._"

One and a half seconds was all it took for the experienced communications officer aboard the _Vigilant_ to establish the connection.

Grey had gotten out a corncob pipe from somewhere and jammed it between his teeth.

_"Looks like everybody's set to go hunting. I'd recommend you position your ships for screening fields of fire, Admiral. If this works, they'll be too busy worrying about those Arwings to give the rest of us more than half a glance. They'll need us laying down support fire."_

"Already arranging it, General. We'll be taking the fleet twenty degrees down Y Axis. Where will you be putting that ship of yours?"

_"We'll take the high ground. Between our cruise missiles and turbolasers, we should be all right."_

"I'm not convinced." Admiral Markinson looked to the _Vigilant's_ radioman. "I'm sending you one of our battleships and two Gryphons for support. You want any Arbiter fighters for close cover?"

Grey considered it. _"Send eight of them, then. But you tell 'em not to go taking any foolish risks. This old ship can take its share of lumps."_

"Done and done." Already, the new formation orders were being sent out. Eight Arbiter spacefighters rocketed towards the Wild Fox, leading the _Relentless_ class battleship and the two _Gryphon_ frigates.

Grey suddenly swiveled his head around towards another station on the bridge. He looked back to the camera with a grim expression. _"Admiral, we're picking them up on sensors."_

"Sir, I can confirm that!" The _Vigilant's _radar operator shouted out. "Multiple inbounds via subspace resonance distortion in FTL. They're coming in hot!"

Grey pulled out a pouch of tobacco and began stuffing his pipe. _"We're putting those Arwings in control of this fight. You okay with that, Admiral?"_

"Use your strengths. Hide your weaknesses. And right now, those ships are the trump card. I just don't want to lose them, Grey."

_"From what we've faced, the Primals like to use homing weapons, like missiles. They love locking on. Most of our heavy weapons, on the other hand, are line of sight."_

Admiral Markinson did a double take. "Wait a minute. But…this sector's notorious for…"

Grey grinned. _"Exactly."_

* * *

_Sector Y_

_11:55 P.M. Cornerian Standard Time_

The Primals dropped out of Subspace 40,000 kilometers shy of the massed 4th Fleet. They'd detected the enemy presence on their approach, but sensors on ships traveling in Subspace were as fuzzy as ships in realspace looking at things on FTL approach: They knew something was there. Not what, or how much.

It wasn't until the last vestiges of the surreal subspace environment faded away from their shields that they realized what they were looking at. The 4th Fleet's larger ships were lingering back, and though their radar was on the fritz, they only needed their cameras to see the silhouettes in front of the eerie green light.

What scared them most were the outlines of fifteen unique smaller spacecraft, fighters, that lunged forward towards them.

Amidst the news of the long-range radar getting only static from residual electromagnetic radiation in the nebula and a full tally of the massed Cornerian defenses, the commander of the Armada felt only one sentence pierce his rapidly beating heart.

"Arwings, Praetor! Fifteen of them! By our Lord, FIFTEEN!"

The bridge of his ship, the fighter carrier _Indomitable_, fell into noise and confusion until the Praetor, an Elite Primal who had only bare skin where the others had fur, slammed his pale, fleshy fist against his armrest.

"Launch all fighters! _All of them!"_

An open radio channel spat out a wild laugh. The radio operator reported nervously that it was an intercepted transmission from one of the Arwings in front.

_"Hello, Primals. Welcome to the meat grinder."_

* * *

_Wild Fox_

"The radar's sketchy as we expected, general." Hogsmeade rubbed at his snout, his scopes useless. He switched over to the MIDS array, and replaced the scrambled image with a crystal clear array of every ship and piece of debris around them. "You made a good call there."

"The Primals don't know everything, even if they think they do." Grey stuffed his pipe with an almost casual pace. "Sector Y didn't exist until a century ago. It's been off-limits to civilians for safety reasons, and we've kept the electromagnetic disruptions present in the nebula on a need to know basis. That planning just paid off. Besides, Hogsmeade, we don't need radar quite as badly as they do."

The porcine radar operator let out a laugh and brought up his MIDS image to the main viewer. "No, we certainly don't. And you have visual sensors working as well, still."

Grey switched back to normal view and directed the magnification to focus in on the Primal Armada. One very large ship stood out from the others at the center of the formation, with fighters pouring out of two barrel-like openings on its underside. The flagship.

Grey grinned and struck a match. "There's my bitch." He lit his pipe and keyed his radio linkup. "All right, Arwings. Your main target's identified. You're gunning for that large ship in the middle of their forces. I want three flights of five Arwings each, and a capable Seraph leading each group. Rourke, Terrany, and Milo, that means you're it."

Grey hesitated, taking note of a vast host of Primal spacefighters pouring out of their carriers.

"Terrany, your flight will handle their fighters. Rourke, you take your group to that command ship and burn it up. Milo, your crew's on support. The others get in trouble, you get them out of the jam."

_"General, we're talking about Terrany and Rourke. When do they __**not**__ get into trouble?"_

Grey ignored the open-ended joke. Let the pilots be crazy. He had a job to do.

"The Fleet's going to cover you. Admiral Markinson's going to be listening in on the main channel, so if you need more direct fire support, shout it out. With the long-range radars out, they'll be unable to launch missiles at us. Chances are good they can still pop them off at you."

_"We didn't become Arwing pilots to hide and play it safe, General." _Captain Vic "Viper" Korman countered. _"We fly these things to push the limits."_

"You're about to find out how far you can go, then. Good luck, Starfox."

Grey eased back in his chair, and suddenly realized that a draft of air was rising up around him towards the ceiling. He shifted, and realized that a miniature funnel effect was centered on his command chair.

He looked to ROB. "Hey, what's this…"

"It occurred to me that other members of the crew might not appreciate your toxic tobacco exhaust." The ship's robotic AI answered, pre-empting the old dog's question. "A general advisory: Smoking is hazardous to your health. A psychological addendum: Your father never smoked."

Arnold Grey puffed on his pipe and looked away from the irritating robot. "Just fire the damn laser cannons."

* * *

_Granger Flight_

"All right, Wallaby. You're sticking with me." Milo ordered calmly. "Captain Hound, you and Damer probably want to tag along, right?"

"There's a wild guess." Hound grumbled. "We're still one short, though."

_"Captain Mulholland of the 5__th__ here. I'm sending you one of my boys, so keep an eye on him."_

Another Model K Arwing slipped into formation behind Milo's group, and a cockpit image of a slightly unbalanced looking koala appeared. He giggled for the camera. "Rex Shafer at your service, Starfox."

Milo rolled his eyes quietly before he spoke. "All right. So that's one rookie, two strategists, the leader, and…"

He paused as Shafer of the 5th Squadron cackled again.

"…That guy."

* * *

_Lead Flight_

"Okay, boys and girls. Who wants to tag along with me for the run on that command ship?" Rourke asked dryly.

Four Model K Arwings came in behind him.

_"Lieutenant O'Donnell, this is Captain Vic Korman, Callsign Viper. The 17__th__ will be on your wing. Turning over to your frequency."_

The sight of four of the SDF's best left Rourke feeling confident. It took him a bit before he realized how ridiculous this would have seemed in his past life.

"And he would call me a traitor." Rourke told himself.

**"You say something, boss?"**

"Nothing you need to worry about, Odai." Rourke reprimanded his AI.

Eyes front, Rourke started a bit as the Primal Armada opened up with everything it had.

Aiming for them.

"All teams, break!" Rourke snapped quickly. In the heat of the moment, he found his voice of leadership. "Don't let them peg you with those cannons, they'll tear us apart!"

The fifteen Arwings peeled off from each other into their three groups. Terrany's cluster, her and the rest of the 5th Squadron, cut high and aimed for the fighters. Milo's flight held back, easing off their thrusters.

And Rourke, in charge of the all-important Lead Flight, aimed straight for the mess in front of them.

Cornerian laser batteries cut loose, unleashing powerful bolts of green and blue laser energy around the Arwings. The sudden strike caught a few of the pilots off their guard, earning some shocked sentiments over the airwaves. The laserbolts flashed past them, heading for their real targets.

_"All Arwings, we've got your back." _Admiral Markinson announced confidently. Moving faster than their ships could, the laserbolts slammed home into the Primal ships, striking the first blow and managing to cripple a handful of their turrets. _"Now get in there and get busy!"_

There were times Rourke still struggled with himself over his allegiances, but in this cockpit, with the Primals in front of him, he didn't hesitate.

_When you see an enemy, you kill it._ Wolf O'Donnell's harsh words cut through the fog of war, and gave Rourke the boost he needed.

"Move quick and roll if you need to. Take out what you can. No matter what, we don't stop." He told the Arwings flying around him.

The fight was on.

* * *

_McCloud Flight_

_"Geez laweez, how many fighters do the Primals have__**?" **_KIT complained. Answering his own question, he put up a new gauge on Terrany's HUD.

**Ships Remaining: 230.**

"I've heard of target rich environments, but this is pushing it." Terrany complained. They were still thousands of kilometers distant, well clear of any immediate engagement. "We ought to get a medal for shooting all these things down."

"Believe me, Miss McCloud, it's just a scrap of metal." Captain Mulholland said wisely. "You want to impress us real pilots, you've got to do this with style."

_"I'll show HIM style."_KIT growled. _"Come on, Terrany. Let's Merge and show these clowns what happens when we cut loose!"_

"No!" Terrany exclaimed. She softened her voice a touch and shook her head. "No, not yet. Just…" She shut her eyes, trying desperately not to think like Falco would have. "Just send a message to our Flight. Let them know what we're up against."

_"I see."_ KIT replied, confused at first before reaching for a sullen outlook. _"I get the boring job while you get to have all the fun."_

"Just do it, Kit." Terrany said. She hadn't come clean with Falco's embedded psyche about her meeting with Dr. Bushtail, and she didn't want to.

The AI made an exaggerated sigh. _"Fine, fine."_A click indicated he'd accessed the radio. _"All right, boys and girls. The name's KIT. I'm the onboard Artificial Intelligence assistant for Terrany McCloud. Got some information you're all going to need. Those fighters are a grab bag. There are two types you'll want to watch out for. The first type is an unmanned drone. Looks like they've got average maneuverability and decent armament, and work best in groups. They're designated "Splinter" drones by the Primals. See those fighters with the black wings? Well, they're called "Helions." They're the spaceborne version of an atmospheric fighter we tangled with in the Venom raid. They're packing a decent amount of shielding, and enough missiles to make you worry. Short-range radar's still going to work, so keep your situational awareness up."_

"Oh, great. More of them." Terrany muttered. Her duel with Tinder Squadron hadn't been so very long ago. Thinking about it got her adrenaline moving.

"Heads up, we've got a second salvo inbound from the Tango Line!" Another pilot in her flight warned. Terrany rolled slowly to watch another storm of laserfire from the fleet rocket underneath them. This time, the Primal ships took evasive action, suffering only glancing blows as they veered away. Terrany saw Rourke's group light up their boosters, moving faster in the wake of the attack. The confusion in the enemy ranks was their opportunity to close the gap.

The Primal fighters were coming around as well.

_"Those fighters are coming closer, kid."_KIT nudged her. _"You okay?"_

"I'll be fine." Terrany dismissed him. "Rourke has his job. We have ours."

She rolled her ship back to level flight and tore after the storm of Primal fighters. The rest of her flight followed in her wake, charging their lasers.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

The JT-300 Turbolasers made an unmistakable sound when fired. A low rumbling bellow that was vastly different from the shrill and high-pitched noise of typical discharges, the sound was an indicator of the incredibly thick particle density that each bolt carried. Before the Darussian Accords, their use had been equated to "Bringing a battering ram to a fencing match." Had it not been for the prohibitive energy demands, the 300 series would have been used far more widely. Extra power, though, was not a problem for the _Wild Fox._

Dana's muzzy psyche picked up the booming thrum as it rumbled through the ship. A minor tremor from the recoil slipped past the inertial dampening field and rattled her skull.

She came to with a gasp, snapping upright and immediately regretting it after a wave of nausea hit her.

A bucket somehow found its way to her hands, and Dana heard the familiar, but hardly therapeutic voice of Dr. Bushtail.

"Go ahead, get it out."

Fifteen seconds of heaving up mostly clear slime later, Dana slumped back. The bucket vanished, and Bushtail appeared above her. "Better?"

"Ugh." Was all she could get out, at first. The bitter taste peppered her dry tongue. "Water."

Dr. Bushtail looked across the room and did a low whistle.

An unfamiliar female rabbit in a medical smock appeared with a small glass of water and a straw. "Here you go, miss."

Dana accepted the drink and took a long draw, coughing slightly at the end.

"Easy, now." Bushtail muttered, his eyes on a medical chart he was thumbing through. "You've been out for three days. We only pulled you out of that soaking capsule an hour ago."

"Who…who's the…"

"Oh, yes. I requested some additional help from General Grey." He gestured to the nurse. "Dana Tiger, meet Lynette Ermsdale. Miss Ermsdale's from the SDF Medical Corps."

"Reassigned from the CSC, actually." Lynette smiled, smoothing back her long gray ears. "Good to meet you."

"I figured that you might appreciate a woman's touch around here, especially for the more delicate procedures." Dr. Bushtail went on.

Dana set her empty water glass to the side and took in several breaths. "So, how did I…"

"Obviously, you aren't dead." Bushtail interrupted her again. "And you're welcome, to pre-empt a gratitude that'll never come. You've been completely purged of any residual radiation, and there shouldn't be any lasting side effects outside of some partial hair loss. That will grow back. The same wouldn't have been true for your eggs, which is why I kept you in the soup for so long. I was running under the assumption you eventually wanted children."

"Just…three days?" Dana's head swam. The rumbling laser blasts didn't do much to assuage her fears. "Where are we?"

"Currently? Sector Y." Bushtail answered. He set the chart aside and meandered back towards his desk. "Your wingmen are reinforcing the 4th Fleet, and the Primals brought quite a show, from the scuttlebutt."

"I've got to…" Dana started to pick herself up, but Nurse Ermsdale gently forced her down.

"The only thing you're doing is staying right where you are and resting." The rabbit told Dana firmly. "You're still nauseous from the isotopic soak's aftereffects."

"Besides, Miss Tiger, your Arwing's currently being used." Bushtail added.

"Used? By who?" The orange and black feline demanded woozily.

"…That's right, you don't know." Bushtail scratched at his chin. "Remember those Arwing pilots you saved at Aquas? It turns out that one of them has the…" He tapped his head, "…to fly a Seraph. Milo's been training him on yours."

"They can't do that." Dana panted. "I don't care what you think, I've got to get out there. If they're fighting, they need me!"

Bushtail drummed his fingers on his desk. "Even if you limped out of here under your own power, you wouldn't be flying today. You're on restriction, Dana. No flying."

"So take me off of it!" Dana insisted feverishly.

"…It's not a medical restriction." The simian doctor shook his head. "Lieutenant O'Donnell ordered it. You're grounded until he gets back and has a talk with you."

Dana tensed up at that. "Rourke?" She breathed deeply for a few seconds. "About what?"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychic." Bushtail growled. "Now just settle back and relax. I've got other patients to worry about right now."

Safe behind his desk, Dr. Sherman Bushtail watched his computer monitor, watching the overlaid EEG readings of Rourke, Milo, Terrany, and Wallaby.

To his seasoned eyes, those crests and troughs in the realtime line graph told a very compelling story.

One whose ending remained unknown.

* * *

_Venomian Airspace_

"Five more, twenty five degrees to the left." Phoenix 2 called out.

"I see them." Phoenix 3 said. He maneuvered his craft in a sloping downangle and locked on to the lead ship of the formation. "Tone acquired. Firing!"

Following his forward radar, a NIFT-29 Corona nonatmospheric missile was punched out of his left missile bay. The rocket motor ignited, the combination of two highly reactive chemicals creating all the thrust it required to chase down its prey. The red and silver missile closed the gap on the lead Strafe hoverturret and fragmented its outer shell. The heart of the missile was a hardened spike of metal; a ship killer in the vacuum of space, designed to punch through armor plating. It did a fair number in the atmosphere as well.

The metallic slug, as long as a man's arm, punched clean through the first of the Strafes at supersonic speed. Carrying enough momentum, it flew on and slashed through the second Strafe of the formation, then had a near miss on the third.

The vacuum left in its wake sucked air and the rest of the missile's debris after it, tearing the first and second Strafes to pieces from the pressure imbalance. The explosions took out the rest of the formation as they flew into the maelstrom.

"Nice shot, Nome!" Phoenix 4 congratulated him.

"Don't praise expectations!" Phoenix 1 snapped at them. "We're not done yet, and things can still get out of hand!"

Chastened by their leader's anger, the rest of Phoenix Squadron fell silent and refocused themselves. A wall of gun emplacements rose up from the ground fifteen hundred meters in front of them and started firing. This time, Captain Telemos didn't need to issue the command. The Phoenix starfighters broke apart, preventing the arsenal from an easy kill. Just before he banked hard for the sky, Telemos strafed the structure, knocking a few of the cannons out of commission. Once they were past it, the wall was no longer a problem; it couldn't swivel to fire after them.

_"Phoenix Squadron, this is Control. You're doing well so far, but stay on your toes. The Tribunes made sure you would be fully tested."_

Whatever pride Telemos felt at being in charge of Phoenix Flight was dampened slightly when he heard that. Again, they had reminded him of the death sentence he was under, if he didn't succeed in stopping the threat of the Arwings of Starfox. Some people wouldn't have been able to handle the pressure.

Telemos forced his anxieties into a corner, grabbed it by the throat, and choked it into submission. He had to succeed. So he would. Nothing else mattered.

His early warning alarms went off, indicating that he had been locked on to.

"SAM batteries, dead ahead!" Phoenix 4 announced. Sure enough, in the hazy atmosphere of Venom, Telemos could make out the outlines of two mobile missile batteries perched atop the cliffs ahead. A puff of smoke from behind them indicated missile launch.

"Going up!" Telemos said, calling out his move. Phoenix 2 followed him, while Phoenix 3 and 4 hit their boosters and rocketed towards the relative safety of the canyon ahead. The forward-angled switchblade wings of their fighters folded in again, sacrificing maneuverability for pure speed.

The missiles, NIFT-18 "Wingbreakers", were the most widely used surface-to-air missiles in the Primal arsenal. They were known to be relentless.

The alarms grew louder: The two Wingbreakers had locked on and were quickly closing the gap.

"Phoenix 2, break off!" Telemos grunted. His wingman knew better than to question the order. The fighter broke off and disappeared from the homing lock of the missiles, leaving Telemos alone in their sights.

The Primal Ace clenched his jaw, one eye watching the rear facing camera display linked to his helmet. "Come on." He choked out. "Get closer." Steadily, the missiles did come nearer, keeping with him even when he passed into the pale green miasma of a low cloud pattern in their operational airspace. "Closer…almost…"

As they crept up on him, the Wingbreaker missiles began to fly parallel to each other as well. When his instincts told him to move, Telemos threw his Phoenix into a tight barrel roll, keeping the nose pointed straight up. He spiraled through the hazy clouds, and the missiles twisted to follow him. In their haste to match his course, they bumped into each other. The glancing blow was just enough to set off their charges, and a fireball of high explosives and shrapnel detonated in his engine wake. A few scraps sliced after him, but the shielding of his ship took the blow with only minor damage.

The radar alarms from below went quiet, and Lashal's voice came in on his headset. "SAM batteries destroyed, Phoenix 1."

"Good work." Telemos slowly leveled off, several thousand meters above the rest of his squadron, and took a moment to reorient himself. The cloudcover he'd passed through served as a surreal false ground.

Then his missile warning went off again, and a blip of darkness rocketed past his starboard wing from behind, leaving a vapor trail less than five meters from his canopy.

Not wasting time to shout out his condition, Telemos threw his Phoenix into a vertical loop. He hit his boosters in the maneuver, saving speed at the cost of G-forces. Two more missiles shot underneath him, losing their lock as his high-temperature thrusters were turned away from their sensors and the more radar-deflective forward profile of the ship.

"Blast!" He snarled, and rotated out of his inverted posture. Now facing the opposite direction, Telemos was given his first clear look at his adversary. The visual confirmed his suspicions from the missile barrage.

A pack of twelve familiar seeming atmospheric aircraft were making tracks towards him. Aircraft he knew intimately…as he had flown in one less than a week before.

Twelve Burnout fighters had a bead on him, each seeking missile lock as they closed the distance to gun range.

"We have some company, Phoenix Squadron. I'm going to need some backup." Telemos said calmly. The shrill tinny of the Burnout's attack radars was a constant throbbing reminder of imminent death.

The NIFT-24 Slammers that he'd narrowly avoided had been warshots. The drones, remotely controlled from the Venom surface, were shooting to kill.

His missile warning went off, grating insistently. The pack of hunters unloaded a full dozen Slammers after him, an insane number that virtually ensured no chance of survival.

In any other ship, that was, except the Phoenix. At least, that was what the Tribunes wanted Telemos and the rest of Phoenix Squadron to prove.

Telemos pushed his thrusters to maximum output and swung his nose high. The Slammers swerved up to follow his rocketlike trajectory, but his speed and angle were too much for the shots to maintain their pursuit. Their target lost, the storm of Slammer missiles flew on for a while longer, then deactivated their engines and fell towards the ground harmlessly.

"Missiles evaded." Telemos called out over the radio. It would give the rest of his squadron a clue as to what he was dealing with. He cut back on the thrust and pulled the Phoenix into a sharp, high-G turn back down towards the pack of Burnouts. They were pulling back sharply to match him and meet him head on, but Telemos knew their specifications. They wouldn't be able to achieve another missile lock before he was on top of them.

Ignoring his NIFT-29 Coronas, Telemos kept his finger on the trigger for his laser cannon. He squeezed twice and unleashed two powerful laserbolts from the elongated barrel that jutted out between the forks of his ship's nose. The first crashed into the Burnout in the middle of the enemy formation and shattered its deflector shields. The second slashed clean through the fighter's fuselage and sent it into overload, disintegrating it entirely in a blast of fire.

The rest of the Burnouts reacted quickly, scattering to escape the debris of the destroyed fighter. Telemos shot through their broken formation. One destroyed, eleven to go.

Three of the Burnouts kept their wits about him enough to follow after him on his pass. Again, his sensors screamed at him of incoming missiles. Telemos tried to spin away from them, and his hard banking roll made one of the shots streak by without triggering its proximity fuse. The second Slammer, however, stayed on course and exploded next to his thrusters and rear stabilizers.

The shields, thankfully, took the blow and spared his ship any damage. Stopping high velocity shrapnel from a missile blast wasn't the same as absorbing or deflecting an errant laserbolt, though; the Slammer drained his shields by 20 percent of their effective strength.

"Taking fire!" Telemos shouted, continuing his turn. Again, the greater agility of the Phoenix saved him. A salvo of laserfire chased after him, but missed him by several yards as his fighter boosted clear. The three Burnouts kept after him, and even though he might be able to fake out one, he couldn't escape all three for very long.

His head was craned back so far over his shoulder that his neck was hurting from the effort, but it allowed him to watch as a four missiles streaked up from below and blasted their charge. The explosions, and the nearly invisible projectile cores, wiped out two of his three pursuers. A converging field of laserfire took out the third before it could escape, and Telemos's alarms finally shut off.

Two Phoenix fighters shot up through the hazy, low-lying clouds of Venom. The lead plane wiggled its forward angled wings as they passed by.

"Got you covered, Phoenix 1." Nome chuckled. "Engaging fighters." Telemos brought himself about and oriented on the main force of Burnout fighters. He could make out Phoenix 3 and 4 above him, and…Yes, barely clear of the low cloud cover, Phoenix 2, Saber, skimming the fog like a shark in the waves.

"Phoenix 2. I'm coming in from bearing 270 low. Two Burnouts in my sights…"

The two fighters Saber had been referring to swirled past him overhead, oblivious to his presence. The radar suppression systems aboard the Phoenix were certainly working well. Only the more intense, forward facing radar array in the Burnout's nose had been able to see Telemos, much less grant a missile lock. Telemos found himself proud as Phoenix 2 finally broke out of the cloud cover and lined up behind the unaware Burnouts.

"Good tone! Firing!"

Four NIFT-29 Corona missiles punched clear of the weapons bay doors on the undersides of the fuselage and ignited, rocketing towards their goal. The first projectiles slashed through the Burnout's deflector shield and shattered various parts of the ship; a wing vanished from the first Burnout from the impact, and the entire tail section of the second vanished. The second pair finished the job, slamming home through the crippled fighters and snuffing them out.

Phoenix 4 whistled appreciatively. "Geez. If we'd had this much firepower over Venom, we could have shut those Arwings down damn quick!"

"And if they'd been focused entirely on killing us off rather than subduing us, we'd be dead in their place." Telemos quashed Flint's enthusiasm with a firm voice. "Let's finish them off."

Nothing summed up his point more than Telemos charging up a shot. His laser cannon let out a whine in the Venomian atmosphere, and crackles of energy danced between the forked prongs that formed his open nose. Steadily, a globe of white photonic energy built up in the empty space ahead of his cockpit, partially blinding him and forcing the Primal to rely solely on his HUD to aim his shot.

Moving with what could have only been practiced teamwork, Phoenix Squadron herded the last six Burnout fighters nearer to each other through converging volleys of laserfire that cut off escape routes, and hastily aimed missile fire that forced them to turn sharply inwards to avoid being struck.

Bunched up as they were, the atmospheric air superiority fighters didn't stand a chance. Telemos aimed for the center of the formation and loosed his shot. It flew on mindlessly, a massive sphere of energy that would bombard everything in its blast radius with vaporizing energy.

The six ground-controlled Burnouts were there one moment, and then gone the next. The charged shot burned through their shields like paper and atomized them on the spot. Only a few wingtips and scrap parts were left standing after the blast finally ended, and they quickly fell towards the ground below. Some forces, like gravity, couldn't be denied.

"All fighters eliminated." Telemos announced over the radio. He muted long enough to exhale and purge some of the adrenaline out of his body he'd been holding onto. "This charged laser is unbelievably powerful. It may not home in on its prey like the Arwing's charged laser, but it would likely destroy anything it touched on contact regardless. Make a note of that, Saber. We'll want to be comfortable with these ship's strengths and weaknesses.

_"Congratulations, Phoenix Squadron. We confirm all regular targets are down, over."_

"Thanks for the heads-up, Command." Telemos said. He paused, then blinked and started to frown. "Wait a moment. _Regular_ targets?"

It was Nome who was the first to notice the cause of the discrepancy. "Ah! Captain, above us!"

Phoenix Squadron looked up and watched as a strange blue and silver craft came down on top of them. A faint red aura from the head of re-entry hovered around its shields, and it came through their circular formation, guns blazing.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Telemos cried out. The warning did Phoenix 4 little good; in spite of moving away, several bolts of brilliant blue laserlight smashed into his shields and weakened the rear deflector screens. The last shot in the salvo pierced his engine mount, and the leftmost of his ship's three, pyramid-arranged thrusters flared out automatically.

"Gah! I'm hit, and my left engine just shut itself off to cope with the damage!" Flint cried out.

"Retreat, Phoenix 4!" Telemos urged his wingman. "We'll handle things from here!"

"Roger." The younger Primal answered sullenly, diving into the relative safety of Venom's mildly acidic cloud cover.

Telemos, Lashal and Nomen all turned their attention to the fighter that had jumped into their midst. It seemed to contemplate whether or not to chase after Vodari's crippled ship, but thought better of it in a hurry.

The blue and silver Model K Arwing turned on the fighters still standing.

"So this is our challenge." Telemos muttered. "They mean for us to destroy an Arwing, to prove to them…and ourselves…that it can be done."

"Where did they get it?" Lashal demanded. "How?"

"Spoils of war, I would think." Telemos replied, keeping both eyes on the Arwing. He could see through its translucent canopy that no entity darkened its pilot's seat.

The ship was being remotely controlled to attack them. The control likely was held by a Tribune, watching the exercises at a safe distance.

"We have a solar system to conquer." Telemos reminded his men. "And that conquest must begin here. Hit that Arwing with everything you have!

The Arwing ignited its boosters, selected a target, and charged.

Telemos braced himself and waited.

Waited…

For the Arwing to make its move.

* * *

_Sector Y_

_Lead Flight_

"On your left, Starfox!" One of Rourke's temporary wingmen shouted out. Rourke reacted to the warning and went into a spin, just as a laser battery from a Primal _Ignan_ class frigate opened up on him. The barrel roll's deflective field saved him from being skewered, and the shots ricocheted away harmlessly.

"I see him." Rourke growled. He turned his Arwing around and aimed straight for the command deck of the ship, unloading a flurry of hyper laserfire at it. The thing's shields flared against the blistering attack, and the ship tried to bring its gun emplacements to bear on the nimble fighter. It was too little, too late. Another Arwing went in behind Rourke on support and hurled a charged laserburst at it. The overtaxed shields collapsed under the explosion of green photonic energy, and the last of Rourke's shots pierced the command deck's transparent windows. Fires engulfed the interior before the smoky atmosphere was pulled out through the gaping wounds. The frigate's outer lights began to flicker and short out, and it fell away, neutralized. Rourke veered back to his original course.

"One less ship. How we doing?"

"80 kilometers from the command ship." Captain Korman answered. "I'd say it was a tiptoe through the tulips, but…"

"Yeah, we all know you'd be lying, captain!" A 17th squadmate joked.

"Some of the pressure's easing off, though, Daric." A second one commented to the good-natured wingman. "You see it too, Captain?"

"Yeah." Captain Korman said in agreement. "Looks like a good chunk of the armada got tired of taking potshots from our Fleet. They're moving to attack, but there's nothing we can do about it now." Rourke and the rest of his flight cut across an open break between the ships and quickly barrel rolled to knock away a crossing barrage of laserfire from two more ships. "Geh! We've got our own problems!"

The two ships kept up their attack, each preventing the flight of Arwings from moving to attack its pair by a constant stream of attacks.

"Keep rolling!" Rourke shouted over the radio. "We've got to stay alive!" It was a task easier said than done. Most Arwing pilots could sustain a barrel roll series for a handful of rotations, but even the best began to lose perspective after the tenth consecutive spin in a row.

Rourke barely caught a glimpse of a brilliant white beam of laserlight streaking down from out of nowhere. It pierced the shields of the ship on the left like they weren't even there, and the entire command deck of the Primal frigate exploded. Half a second later, a second piercing laser strike took out the one on the right. The ruined frigates fell away, trailing sparks of plasma.

_"Granger flight has you covered, boys." _Milo's voice was even, and Rourke and the others could just make out his Seraph Arwing two kilometers above them. To the members of the 17th, the sight of the extended secondary wings were a shock to their senses.

"Good God, what in heaven's name is that thing?" The pilot who'd been identified as Daric cried out. "Is that the one that fired, Gunther?"

"Yeah…just two shots, though." Gunther responded, amazed. "He took out those frigates with two shots!"

"Milo only needed two." Rourke reassured the other pilots. He straightened his Seraph back out and dialed in his radar to medium range. "Milo, you still there?"

_"That's affirmative. What do you need, lieutenant?"_

"They're probably going to start launching some missiles at us soon. How's the battle looking, from your vantage?"

_"Well, a third of the Primal Armada's going toe to toe with the 4__th__ fleet, so we're moving without our long range support. Terrany's holding her own, and Captain Hound and his boys are doing fine by me."_

"You're probably just keeping them on defense and picking out your targets, aren't you?" Rourke snorted.

Another Pulse Laser beam shot down from Milo's position and severed an _Ardent_ class Primal cruiser who'd lost its shielding into two neat halves.

_"While I can. The Pulse Laser's got a terrible overheating problem."_

"Something else for Wyatt and his boys to fix when this is all over." Rourke promised him.

_"If nobody gets shot down first, that is."_

The 17th Squadron formed up on Rourke's wing, and the five Arwings dashed for the command ship. "Nobody's dying today." The O'Donnell vowed, for everybody to hear. "Not on my watch. You just keep that support fire up!"

* * *

_The Tango Line_

_Wild Fox_

"They want to play, do they?" General Grey thundered. "We can do that." He'd kept an open line to Admiral Markinson's flagship, which turned out to be a very useful trick. "Admiral, you have a plan for them?"

The _Wild Fox_ rocked slightly as the large enemy contingent closed in, firing at the Fleet.

_"Given what we know about their specs, and the battle over Aquas, our capital ships are about even in strength. Once we close in, those missiles are going to be a problem, and we still have those enemy fighters prowling around. The Arbiters have their hands full."_

"I'd recommend we combine fire on individual targets if possible. The quicker we bring them down, the less time they'll have to take potshots at us."

_"Agreed. I'll direct half the fleet to concentrate fire on your targets, General. We'll keep the other half on general fire support. If we're lucky, it'll keep them pinned down."_

Grey turned to Hogsmeade. "They close enough yet?"

"Interference still…sketchy…YES!" Hogsmeade whooped. "We've got a radar lock, 500 kilometers out!"

"All right, ROB. Do what you were programmed to. Fire those damn missiles!" Grey ordered. "And keep those turbolasers shooting. We'll be painting our targets for mass destruction!"

* * *

_Granger Flight_

For Milo, the enormous scope of the battle was backdrop. Deep inside Merge Mode, everything else fell away. The voices, the noises on the radio came in muted, like an earpiece turned down. Silence. Wonderful silence.

He would check the video feeds of the Godsight Pods that loomed over the battle, each giving a small look at the larger picture. Enemy ships, enemy fighters, their own forces were mapped out, highlighted in blues and reds. And they moved at a sluggish pace. Sluggish, only because of how fast he was thinking, connected with ODAI and the Seraph's computer.

He could see Captain Hound and Argen, running protective circles in the space around him. Occasionally, a Primal ship would get a funny idea in its head and move to attack them, and they would jump on it. The koala from the 5th Squadron who was assigned to them, Rex Shafer, was a little more free-spirited. He didn't so much request orders as run out in longer loops, engaging enemies before drawing them in to the gunsights of Hound and Argen. Wallaby was getting into the swing of it as well, though he was chastened enough by the presence of his captain that he kept by Milo's side, acting as his proximal cover.

**Pulse Laser capacitors approaching overload threshold. Estimated shots before cooldown: Four.**

The raccoon smiled in the back of his mind, a movement that his body repeated an agonizing half second later. _**That's something we'll have to have Wyatt work on, if he ever gets the time.**_

A deep breath. Check the surroundings. Find a target. Turn the Seraph, pivoting inside of the G-Negator field to aim wherever he needed to. Ease out his breath. Feel his pulse. Take aim.

Fire between heartbeats.

The _Ardent_ class cruiser coming for their group took the shot across the bow. The Pulse Laser rattled its shields, but it kept coming. Milo adjusted his aim and fired again. Another glancing blow; it took a part of the hit, but the rest deflected off.

_"Guys, we might have a problem here."_ Milo told his teammates, dealing with the delay between thought and action as the inconvenience that it was. _"This ship's tougher than the others."_

**Observation: They have likely redirected shield strength to the front.**

_**You think I don't know that? I'm just surprised the Pulse can't stop it. **_

Milo raised himself several degrees vertically from his original position and took aim along the spine of the ship, midway down its length. He squeezed off his last two shots, and was finally rewarded with the sight of his attack crashing through the ship's hull and causing substantial damage. It wasn't enough to bring it down completely, though.

As Milo de-Merged and his Seraph folded its secondary wings and G-Negator pods back up, the Primal cruiser took aim at him, filling the cockpit with the grating sound of missile lock.

Milo stretched his jaw and cringed as he pulled away. De-Merging's pain was more like popping his eardrums during driving these days. "Guys, that cruiser's still coming!"

"Relax, Sergeant." Captain Hound called back. "We'll finish the job. Rex, Wallaby, we'll need some covering fire."

A barrage of missiles shot out from the cruiser in the wake of a salvo of laserfire. Hound and Argen guided their Model K Arwings through the firestorm and kept going, able to ignore the more solid projectiles when Rex and Wallaby, as ordered, each loosed a charged laserburst that incinerated the storm.

Hound and his wingman flew through the last bits of ionized gas and unloaded on the cruiser with a pair of smart bombs. The Cornite-fueled explosives peeled back the layers of the Primal ship's armor and hull in their red fiery wake, melting the front half of the ship into slag. The back half powered down, and it drifted dead in space.

And that was when a flight of eight Helion spacefighters shot around from behind the ship where they'd been hiding and streaked past Hound and Argen.

"Shoot! Milo, you've got incoming!" Hound and Argen started a hard Immelmann turnaround, but the Helions had a considerable speed advantage on them. "A squadron was hiding behind the cruiser!"

"I see 'em." Rex chimed in. His Arwing dove down on the Primal fighters, a charged laserblast dancing on his nose. He fired the shot, but the Helions reacted quickly, scattering in all directions in a wild pattern that confused his lock. "Damn! These guys have got some fight in them!"

Two of the eight came charging up straight for the koala, and the three ships cut loose with a wild crossing spray of laser blasts. Rex scored a critical blow on one of the Helions, but he paid for it with a dozen strikes that rattled his ship and drained his shields. Rex and the surviving Helion began a tight corkscrew spin around one another to get on their foes' tail, and the wild pilot swore again. "Looks like I'll be busy here for a bit! Get after the others!"

"Tracking in, but they got the jump on us!" Hound shouted back. "Milo! Use that megalaser of yours!"

"No can do, captain." Milo said, turning towards them. "I can only get in so many shots before the Merge capacitors overheat. We'll have to handle them the old fashioned way." Milo dumb-fired a smart bomb towards the approaching ships and sent them scattering apart to escape the blast. The distraction allowed Hound and Argen to close the gap on another pair who'd veered back the direction they came from. The two pairs of fighters exchanged gunfire again, but Captain Hound and Argen came in spinning in a barrel roll, deflecting the Primals' attack while their own quickly chipped away at the Helions' defenses. To Hound's surprise, the Primal pilots panicked and smashed into each other as they tried to get clear of the line of fire, exploding in a spectacular fireball.

"Nice barrel roll, captain!" Argen cheered his superior.

"It's an aileron roll, you daffy bird!" Hound harrumphed. "Creator above. I've got these Starfox lunatics getting the name wrong, I don't need my own squadron screwing up maneuvers!"

Of course, even that attack left four Helion fighters boring straight for Milo and Wallaby. They were eager for vengeance against the Arwing who had shot down their larger spaceships with impunity. Three of them focused on Milo, each managing to get a lock rather quickly. Only one of them turned to come after Wallaby, who was likely more of a nuisance.

"Aah, sugarsnaps." Milo groaned. A trio of missiles detached from the Helions' wings and came towards him, and he tried to get clear of it. He evaded two of the missiles in a lock-defeating tight loop, but the third tracked in on him and exploded, driving a long spear of hardened metal past his shields and clear through his left wing.

"Gah! Forget Merging at all now!" Milo cried out, struggling to bring his wounded Arwing back under control. "Hound! I need some backup or I'm scrapped!"

Hound didn't bother calling back as he and Argen sped towards the melee. He knew well enough that it would have been wasted words; They wouldn't reach Milo in time to determine the outcome one way or another. Rex was still trailing his own enemy, and pulling out would put him at risk of being tagged himself.

"I'm coming!" Wallaby yelped. "Hang on, Sarge!" It was a ridiculous statement, given his own fight: He and the Helion who'd gone to engage him were helplessly tangled, flying in wild circles. Ridiculous, but somehow Wallaby Preen made it prophecy.

Until that moment he hadn't Merged.

Because he hadn't needed to. Enough of his mind fell into synch with Dana Tiger's ODAI, because they shared one thought and the desire to make it real. Milo Granger had to live.

The Helion pilot chasing after Wallaby watched in amazement as the Arwing's thrusters shut off, and the inlaid portions of its wings suddenly folded out to go from a 2 to 6 wing layout. Before he could react to it, the Arwing _turned_. Not just like any fighter could. As if a hand had reached down, plucked it from the sky and pivoted it about on a point, the Arwing now flew backwards with its guns pointing at the Helion.

And then Wallaby fired.

White hot laserbolts blasted the pursuing Helion apart, and Wallaby's incredulous laugh echoed over the radio.

_"This is…this is AWESOME!"_

A damaged Milo watched as Wallaby turned in onto the three Helion fighters chasing after him and opened up. They tried to evade, but Wallaby's enhanced reaction time and the strength of his G-Negator boosted Nova Lasers were too much. They exploded one after the other, and Wallaby spun around Milo's damaged ship, still laughing.

_"Did you see that, captain? Did you see that?"_

"Yeah, I saw it." Captain Hound managed to reply. "We all saw it. You can actually fly that thing."

_"You okay, Milo?"_ Wallaby asked his injured wingman, concern carrying through his slightly disembodied voice.

The raccoon relaxed back in his seat after checking his radar for nearby enemies and finding none.

"I'm fine. That'll do, kid."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

"Hm." Dr. Bushtail reached for a thermos and poured himself out a measure of coffee.

Dana strained to try and pull herself to a sitting position, despite his original wishes. "What? What's wrong?" It was agonizing for the pilot to be stuck in recovery while the rest of her squadmates were out facing mortal danger.

Bushtail looked up pointedly at her, then led his gaze to a bowl of broth and a carbonated sugar phosphate at her bedside. Grumbling, Dana reached for the drink and sipped from its straw. Satisfied, the doctor nodded and looked back to his screen.

"It seems that young Mr. Preen has just Merged for the first time."

"In _my ship?"_

"Yes, in your ship." The simian rolled his eyes. "I was just musing how quickly he took to it, given your own ODAI's marked personality adaptations."

"Why, because I was brought on as a test pilot for the Seraphim Project and he's a trained pilot?"

"Well, that's a major part of it." Bushtail explained. "Your ODAI picked up characteristics of your flight patterns and combat tactics. You favor fancy aerial maneuvers, he was taught to keep the stunts to a minimum. Presumably, his own Seraph's ODAI, when completed, will follow the stratagems his training provided him with. Its personality will likely be as bumbly as he is."

"Is he that bad?"

"He's young." Bushtail said. "Mind you, not as young as Miss McCloud, but compared to the rest of you?" The simian scratched at his chin. "Hmm. Respectable, though. His Synch ratio is holding at 64 percent."

"…I wasn't that good my first time out."

"I know." Bushtail said. "He's young. But there's potential."

The _Wild Fox_ shuddered around them, jostling the patient and the doctor out of their discussion. Nurse Ermsdale quickly braced Dana and kept her from falling off of her bed.

Dr. Bushtail shook his head and looked around the room for a second. "If we live through this, that is."

* * *

_McCloud Flight_

"Shoot, he's right behind me!" One of the other Arwing pilots in her flight cried out. Terrany swore and checked her radar. The pilot in trouble was at eight o' clock low.

"Hang on to something, Kit." Terrany muttered. Before the AI could complain, she jerked back on the stick and turned the nose hard left and up. Following the loop, she dove down on top of the turning Arwing and its pursuers, correcting her aim slightly as she came in behind them. A quick lock and a homing laserburst wiped out the two Splinter drones who had been chasing after her temporary wingman. A perfect High yo-yo.

"Your tail's clear." Terrany told him.

The Arwing wiggled his wings in thanks and chased after another target, giving Terrany only a second before her own alarms went off.

_"Missile lock! Three behind us!"_

"Never a dull moment!" Terrany snapped, and flipped into a full Kulbit loop. The sudden loss of momentum and her radical change in position caused the drone fighters to shoot right through her wake, and when she finished the loop, she was right on top of them. A salvo of hyper laserfire finished two of them off, and the third veered off so suddenly that he crashed nosefirst into the fuselage of an enemy Helion fighter, sending them spinning off before they exploded.

"All ships, watch your surroundings!" Terrany shouted out.

"What, you think we don't know that?" A cocky member of the 5th Squadron countered. Before she could berate him, Captain Mulholland chimed in and did the job for her.

"If you were smart, Hank, you'd listen to the little lady. This is the wildest furball I've ever seen, by God. Don't pay attention and you'll crash into these things sooner than shooting at 'em!"

Though they were vastly outnumbered, the Arwings in Terrany's flight looked out for each other and stayed in close proximity. Their training kept them from being drawn out in wild pursuit courses, and their more resilient shields took care of the errant or lucky shots that the Primal Helions and Splinters managed. Terrany took the outer perimeter of their formation, trusting in her ship and its enhanced capabilities to see her though. One thing she didn't trust, to KIT's frustration, was Merge Mode.

_"Why won't you Merge? We could end this out of control dogfight in a minute and a half!"_

"Because of what happened last time, remember?" Terrany snapped at him. "We were over 80 percent synch, and I could hear you thinking. That's not supposed to happen, Kit."

_"Well, you're still you and I'm still me, right?"_

"Something else. Every time we de-merge, I get a sudden headache. The others, it gets better for them. They get used to it. It feels like it's only been getting worse for me." Telling KIT what she and Dr. Bushtail had pieced together was like letting go of a terrible strain. It let her focus on the combat at hand as well. A Helion was coming towards her, but at an angle that suggested she wasn't his target, too oblique for a laserlock to slam into him. Terrany banked right as he approached, then did an altitude dropping roll to fall into position behind him. A single squeeze of the trigger fired a trio of paired blue laserbolts into his rear shields and collapsed them. The pilot panicked and pulled up hard to escape her, and was cut down by a lucky strike from one of the vigilant 5th Squadron members.

"Good shot, Mike!" Captain Mulholland congratulated the Arwing pilot who'd scored the kill. "Starfox…Er, Terrany, right?"

"That's correct, captain." Terrany answered back.

"Do you have an idea how many of these fighters we've got left to take down?"

KIT caused her HUD on the canopy's forward window to flash, then highlighted the number remaining.

_**72.**_

"About another 70, captain. Considering we started out at 230, that's a decent clip of business."

"I'm not celebrating yet." Captain Mulholland answered her. "It feels like a group of them have been holding back, letting the others dive in. We've been taking out the first wave, not the elites."

Again, Terrany found herself thinking about that Primal ace she'd faced off with over Venom. Captain Telemos something. He'd been a hard challenge, no doubt about it. If the Primals had other pilots of his caliber…

That chilling thought was enough to prod her into action. "Kit. Check the radar. Do we have some Primal fighters in this mix that have been hanging back?"

_"Checking…"_ KIT went to work, grunting displeasingly a few moments later. _"Yeah, we do actually. Looks like thirty of them. All of them Helions. Manned fighters."_

Terrany winced. "Did you copy that, captain?"

"Yeah, I heard your AI." The leader of the 5th squadron murmured. "Question is, what are they waiting for? The rest of their ships are almost gone."

"Aaah!"

That sudden cry from another member of McCloud flight answered the question for them, as a pack of eight Splinters managed to surround one of the other Model K Arwings.

"Charlie! Hang on, I'm coming!" The pilot who'd been called Mike earlier cried out.

"Mayday! Mayday, they've got me pinned down!" Charlie screamed. He was tossing his Arwing into one aileron roll after another, using the momentary deflective ring of G-Diffuser energy produced by the maneuver to shrug off the blows. More than a few shots were making it through that defense between rolls, however…and the firepower of eight ships centered on one Arwing was substantial. "Shields can't take much more of this! I might have to bail!"

_"NO!" _Came the distant voice of Captain Hound, who broke from Milo's formation with Argen in tow. Milo and Wallaby followed a second later. _"You bail out in your escape capsule, they'll kill you without a second thought son! I lost my second in command to these sons of bitches when he did that!"_

Terrany ground her teeth together. Rourke had told her about the debriefing report Grey had gotten from Cornelius AFB from their Aquas mission. Hound had lost a wingman just as he was describing.

The Arwings of her flight, all wingmen to the pilot named Charlie, moved with haste and managed to pick off his pursuers in a storm of laserbursts and strafe shots. The last two of the Splinters broke off and veered for the safety of the other active Primal Splinter drones. Running on anger, the Arwings of the 5th Squadron screamed towards them, launching a full strike of smart bombs. The Splinters were caught sideways in the strike, and the survivors raced for the Arwings, mixing it up in a swirling dogfight. Charlie, the badly wounded Arwing, turned his ship around and set a course for the distant _Wild Fox._

"My shields are nearly fried, captain. I'm going to RTB for the _Wild Fox_ while I still can."

"We'll keep these things busy for you, son. You fought well!" Captain Mulholland praised him. "Granger Flight, get my pilot back safe."

_"Don't worry. We're not losing him."_ Captain Hound promised. Taking the lead for a change, he took point ahead of the damaged Arwing. Argen and Wallaby took the sides, and Milo hung in the rear, leaving their escort in the middle. _"Just follow us in, Mr. West."_

"You know me?" Charlie West exclaimed.

Captain Hound chuckled. _"Me and Pete go back a few years. Yeah, he talked about you some. Said you were decent. Pete, you've got the cleanup."_

"We'll do our part, Lars. You do yours."

Granger Flight retreated away from the fighting, while Terrany's wingmen continued to keep the Splinters occupied. It gave the albino-furred vixen a chance to collect her thoughts.

Terrany winced. A flash of pain raced across the synaptic connection points of her helmet.

"Kit, what were you just thinking?"

_"I was thinking those fighters holding back are about to make their move."_ The AI answered matter-of-factly.

Terrany pulled back on the throttle, holding position between the skirmish and the Helions who watched, staying motionless in the nebula. "I was thinking that, too."

Their shared prediction proved accurate. Once the four K Arwings were fully engrossed in the combat maneuvers with the last of the Splinters, the thirty Helions lit their boosters and flew straight for the brawl.

"Wild Fox, this is Terrany. We've got one last pack of fast movers on attack course. Can you help us out?"

The Godsight Pods maintained a perfect connection to their mothership. _"Sorry, Terrany. The Armada's engaged us head-on. Support's out of the question."_

The Helions got closer. Soon, they would be in missile lock range, and that much massed firepower against already harried Arwings would be the end of the story. Milo and his flight were busy escorting the crippled Arwing back through the warzone; if they broke off to help, it'd put that pilot Charlie at risk.

_"Looks like it's just you and me, kid. Or just you." _KIT corrected himself. Terrany's stated hesitation to Merge limited the help he could provide.

Her pause now, however, wasn't because she feared to Merge.

"Something my dad used to say. Sometimes, you can't go it alone." She told KIT solemnly. "The one time he forgot his own lesson, he was killed. You ready to go?"

_"…Oh ho…"_ KIT chortled. _"Ready and willing."_

Their synch ratio was so high that the transition was almost instantaneous. Her Seraph's wings flared out like the angels it took its name from, the G-Negator pods opened.

_**"Terrany McCloud to Granger flight and my wingmen. Finish up those Splinters and bug out. I'll cover your retreat."**_

Her Seraph soared for the oncoming Helions, fearlessly straight.

_"McCloud, you're out of your mind! That's thirty fighters coming down on you!" _Captain Hound exclaimed. _"You can't take them alone!"_

Inside of her cockpit, a glassy expression had settled over Terrany's soft white face. The words came woodenly, slow and determined. She was thinking about everything else except speaking.

_**"I'm not alone."**_

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

"Oh, Lylus." Bushtail drew in a ragged breath. Eyes wide, he watched as Terrany's line on his realtime synch ratio chart began to pulse, flashing white. "Don't do it. Don't…"

But she did, and she had. The doctor shut his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose again. "Hell." He pounded his intercom, giving him a line to the bridge. "General, Terrany just Merged."

_"Isn't that a __**good**__ thing, doctor?"_ Grey grunted in reply, as the _Wild Fox_ shuddered from another hit. _"More importantly, we've got our hands full. Why are you bothering me about it?"_

"Because she's flying at a synch ratio we never expected to see before, and she…"

Bushtail's throat tightened as he watched her line crest and plateau high above everyone else.

84 percent.

_"Hey, doc? Relax already!" _Wyatt cut in cheerfully. _"She can handle herself better than anybody else I know in that plane! And don't worry…I'm sending her some support for the fight. She's crazy enough to take on thirty Primal elite fighters, she's going to do it with some Godsight Pod assistance!"_

Bushtail pulled his finger off of the intercom switch and folded his hands together, looking back to his screen with rapt attentiveness.

Over in her bed, Dana Tiger grew more worried from Dr. Bushtail's unusual attitude. "What's wrong, doc? You worried about how she'll handle the fight?"

"It's not her performance in battle while she's Merged that worries me." He said quietly. "It's what happens after."


	19. Threshold

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THRESHOLD

**G-Diffusers and the Draw Effect-** While the diffusive field, or "Shield" produced by G-Diffuser units is typically used only to protect the equipped fighter, it also has a paradoxical attractive quality first explored by Beltino Toad in the years before the Lylat Wars. This mechanic was first put to use by the Starfox Team in their SFX-1 Arwings. The field could be used to draw in attuned restorative items, such as replacement Cornite charges for their bomb launcher, shield rings, and even in extreme cases, wing replacements. The **"Draw Effect"** as it became known, went largely ignored by the Cornerian military in the years that followed, due largely to the expense of the Arwings' basic design and the expanded spheres of military influence, which decreased the need for supplies on the go.

**(From Slippy Toad's Keynote Speech at Corneria University, several years prior)**

"_**Shortsightedness. That's what my father told me to be most afraid of. The SDF gave up on funding Draw Effect research, even though he and I argued against the decision. As it stands, the newest Arwing prototype, the Model K doesn't have the ability to use the Draw Effect, in spite of the proven benefits of being able to resupply mid-battle. You will be challenged, in your own lives, by similar forces who will act shortsighted for one reason or another. I urge you, fight against them. The ship I flew in lost a valuable tool because of shortsightedness. I only hope that we won't pay a penalty for that mistake."**_

_**

* * *

**_

_The Tango Line_

_Sector Y Nebula_

The Arbiters were more numerous than the Arwings, four times their number, but they were nowhere near as dangerous. The Model K Arwings shipped out with a single hyper laser which was most often upgraded to twin blasters. The Arbiters, on top of lacking a true G-Diffuser system, had reduced shielding, no bombs, and no charged laserlock; just a single hyper laser cannon that couldn't be upgraded. They couldn't deflect shots by doing aileron rolls. It was why Admiral Markinson had kept them back on Fleet defense. There were plenty of targets for them to deal with anyhow.

A pair of Splinters screamed up from underneath one of the _Relentless_ class dreadnoughts, surprising the crew when the drones failed to attack them. The reason became clear when a duo of Arbiters shot up after them, firing wildly. The more agile and pilotless drones swerved in wild spins to foil the shots, but the determined Arbiters stayed on them and finally scored the killshots. They soared through the gap in the center of the spreading debris field, then peeled off around one of the _Valkyrie_ class cruisers for cover. One of the Primal capital ships who'd moved in close to engage fired off a volley of missiles, targeting a different group of Arbiters who had flown beneath the line. Frantic warnings passed through the airwaves via the optical interlink of Godsight Pods, and it seemed that the Primals would finally strike a blow against the snub fighters keeping the 4th Fleet safe from their Splinter drones.

Then somehow, the missiles all began to wobble and vibrate, as if fighting against an invisible gravitational pull…which wasn't far off.

They exploded after enough gravitic shear triggered the detonators, leaving the Arbiters untouched.

Holding position above the main line of the 4th Fleet, the _Wild Fox_ continued to fight as the guardian it was.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

"It worked, General!" Wyatt croaked excitedly. "Hot damn if that tractor beam isn't the bee's knees!"

"Don't get too wound up, Toad." Grey reprimanded the mechanic. "You said you were sending some Godsight Pods to Terrany…what did you mean by that?"

At his station, which was unsurprisingly adjacent to ROB at the weapons console, Wyatt typed in his commands at a feverish speed. "Something my granddad and his team at Corneria came up with. I received the data transfer this morning from the Cornelius AFB uplink before we left orbit." He couldn't help wiggling his eyebrows and giggling with insidious glee. "If she's going to fly in Merge Mode, she might as well have some extra eyes. With that many bogeys gunning for her, she's going to need it."

It took Grey a moment for the realization to sink in, and when it did, he was blinking in surprise. "Total situational awareness." He uttered. "Only a Toad."

"Thank you very little." Wyatt sniped. "Hey ROB, need any help?"

"If I required assistance, I would ask for it, User Wyatt."

"By the Creator, you really are a wiseass." Wyatt snorted. The _Wild Fox_ shuddered from another impact, and the robot lifted its red optical visor up from the screens.

"General Grey, the Primal Armada contingent attacking the Tango Line is forming around us. The shield emitters are beginning to show critical fluctuations on Screens 4, 10, 11, and 14."

Arnold Grey knew that fact all too well, without the robot reminding him of it. Thanks to the MIDS Array, he could see the massed ships moving into a semicircle underneath them, firing nearly point blank at their vulnerable underbelly.

"First rule of space combat." Grey twirled the stem of his pipe between his teeth. "You think two-dimensionally, you're dead. Updraft, nose down."

The cardinal at the helm managed a thin smile over his beak. "You've got it, General."

Pirouetting with more grace than one would expect a ship of its size to have, the _Wild Fox_ lifted its stern up and angled its nose and turbolasers to the battle group below.

Grey took in the sight of the enemy ships firing at them with bruising force. "ROB, lasers on the center. Missiles to full spread."

"Weapons engaged." ROB said. Searing turbolaser bolts ripped through the nebula and smashed against the lead ship of the Primal formation. A ghastly number of Lylus class cruise missiles followed soon afterwards, each chasing down a different target. The Primals frantically altered their patterns of fire to shoot down the projectiles, and managed to take down most of them.

The distraction was enough to give the _Wild Fox_ a much needed reprieve from the direct fire, and the rest of the 4th Fleet responded perfectly. Concentrated fire from the batteries of the SDF Capital ships ripped the shields of the targeted vessel apart, then riddled its armor plating with enough power to cause it to glow white hot. It blew apart in a tremendous fireball when the armor finally gave way, scattering the Primal attack formation apart.

"Target the survivors." Grey ordered. His claws dug into the armrests of the command chair. "Let's finish this."

In the space of a minute, the coordinated attacks of _Wild Fox_ and the 4th Fleet destroyed three more Primal ships from the attack formation. The rest retreated back for the safety of the line, suffering glancing blows on their flanks as they hobbled away.

Admiral Markinson appeared on the main viewscreen shortly thereafter, looking relieved. _"Goddamn that ship of yours, Arnold. You're on the bleeding edge."_

"Just batting cleanup, Admiral." Grey pulled his pipe out and tapped the ashes into a small airtight container. "How did the Fleet do?"

_"We lost a Valkyrie, the _Sandstormer. _Other than that, we took some hits, but we're still standing. Looks like you saved our asses."_

Grey sighed. "Yeah, well. We're not done yet. You hold position and help your fighter crews take out the last of these gnats in your airspace."

_"Wait a minute. You're not seriously thinking of…"_

Grey drew a finger across his neck, and the on-duty communications officer, Sasha, killed the connection midsentence. The sudden silence caused Hogsmeade and Wyatt to both look back at him.

Grey pocketed his corncob pipe and steadied his grip on his seat. "Hogsmeade, did we have some retreating Arwings?"

The curly-tailed radar operator nodded. "Yeah. Granger Flight is escorting a crippled Arwing from McCloud Flight away from the skirmish."

"Updraft, lay in an intercept course. Might as well shave some of the travel time from 'em."

"On it, general." The cardinal smiled wider still, and pushed the powerful engines of the _Wild Fox_ to full.

ROB spoke up again. "Your tactic is slightly irrational, General Grey. The ship has sustained considerable damage already; the shield emitters have not yet recovered from the Primal attacks. We are down to 67 percent deflector strength. Given the escort, the retreating Arwings should have no trouble reaching the safe zone."

Grey narrowed his eyes. "A rule about us biologics, robot. We value life, and that means we do some crazy stunts to protect it. Considering the folks you used to fly with, I'm surprised at the attitude. Peppy Hare slammed the Great Fox into the Aparoid homeworld's shield, didn't he?"

"Yes. But he was also crazy." ROB intoned. The robot turned back to the forward viewscreen, and twisted his head in what might have been a disapproving shake. "It must be a common Cornerian trait."

"We all love to be the big damn hero." Grey folded a leg over one knee and frowned. "Now shut off this air purification field already. I don't like sitting in a bubble."

* * *

_Lead Flight_

"Incoming missiles!" Captain Victor Korman shouted out, repeating what their warning alarms all indicated. "Shoot 'em down before they get close!"

The missiles were comparatively small, but the hard metallic surfaces made it easy for the Arwings to achieve laserlock. Five dazzling green laserbursts soared out and went off, baking the Primal salvo before it got anywhere near to them. A smaller ship reared into their flight path and popped a hatch, revealing another stack of rockets ready to bore down on them. Rourke was about to call out a warning when Captain Korman dashed ahead and fired off two pairs of hyper laser shots right into its missile bay. The chain reaction cracked the vessel apart and cleared the road once again.

"Geez! Nice shooting, Viper!" One of his wingmen whistled. "I didn't think they could fail that quickly!"

"Gotta love explosives, boys." Korman said. "Nothing like a target that causes collateral damage when it goes off." The basilisk lizard blinked both sets of eyelids as he looked between his radar and the HUD on his canopy. "We're damn near on top of that mothership, Starfox. You ready for one last push?"

"Seven kilometers to go. Just be careful, they're gonna start shooting at us pretty soon." Rourke grumbled. He paused, then quickly amended the statement as the rest of the Primal ships on their gauntlet suddenly veered off away from them. "Make that now."

Seven kilometers ahead, with nothing but empty green void between it and the Arwings, the Primal command ship exploded with dots of light; rocket motors. The radar lock-on alarms went off soon after.

"Big daddy's painting us, boys." Korman grumbled. "Close it up and burn through." Rourke gave Korman the lead position and swiveled off his starboard wing. The basilisk noted the gesture with a chuckle. "Too exciting for you, Starfox?"

"Just letting you pull rank, captain." Rourke corrected him.

Their focus turned to the barrage of missiles closing in on them, and the mothership ahead. The rest of the 17th Squadron let Rourke's last comment go without questioning.

* * *

_Primal Command Carrier Indomitable_

"The Armada is moving to fallback positions as you ordered, Praetor." The Primal radio operator looked up to the hairless Elite Primal sitting in the command chair. "Shall I order our remaining fighters to retreat?"

"Not yet." The Primal leader raised his hand to accent the order. His eyes hadn't broken from the monitors, which showed the Arwings closing in…and their massive missile salvo screaming towards them. "To break now would only give our enemies the resolve to fight on, and that we cannot allow."

The Praetor's eyebrows furrowed, and he manipulated the display to zoom in on a quadrant. Behind the Arwings, several thousand kilometers away, was the ship that had attacked Venom. The mothership of the Arwings. It had been operating with impunity, picking its way through his Armada. It seemed to be moving in a direction that would bring it in line…

"Sub-Commander."

"Yes, Praetor?"

"Alert all stations for Conversion."

The Praetor's right-hand man didn't react until he finally looked away from the screen and stared.

"Y…Yes, Praetor." The sub-commander scrambled to carry out the order, and the Praetor folded his arms.

He had no doubt that the Arwings could shoot down most, if not all of those missiles.

They would not be so lucky when the _Indomitable_ revealed itself.

* * *

_Granger Flight_

The damaged Arwing of Charlie West made good time, but he didn't risk using the boosters. Every so often, a Splinter would try and close in for the easy kill, but Milo, the 21st, and the 5th Squadrons were all on support. For the fantastic job of blocking that Granger Flight and its backup were providing, what was left of the Primals as they approached the Tango Line may as well have been firing dud missiles and blunted laserbolts. They were creeping up on the _Wild Fox_, where the battered Arwing and its rattled pilot would be able to dock for some much needed repairs.

"Be advised, _Wild Fox_, we are on final approach."

_"Copy that, Granger Flight."_ Sasha's calming voice called back. The great white and blue ship began to flash its running lights. _"Wyatt's crew will be waiting in the hangar bay. How many of you are docking?"_

"Just the one, _Wild Fox._" Captain Hound responded. "The rest of us are anxious to get back in the fight."

"Woah, heads up!" Wallaby exclaimed excitedly. "That big mothership's doing something!"

_"We see it too, Granger Flight. Stand by."_ Sasha's voice seemed to tense up.

The vicinity cleared of bogies, Milo and several other members of the 5th Squadron reversed direction to get a look at it. The flagship of the Primal Armada was changing.

Parts of it folded up, and other parts expanded. Trained to be cautious, Captain Hound broke the silence. "Wild Fox, is there any enemy movement to attack us?"

_"That's a negative, Captain Hound."_ Hogsmeade cut into the interlink. _"All their assets seem to be…falling back."_

"…West, park that thing." Captain Mulholland ordered his wingman. "I don't like the feel of this."

Following orders, the damaged Arwing maneuvered around the port wing of the _Wild Fox_ and made a lazy arc to line up on the guiding light beams coming from the landing bay. The larger ship held its course to make the landing easier, but it also made the _Wild Fox_ a more vulnerable target.

_"Call the ball, Typhoon 3." _The landing officer aboard the _Wild Fox_ intoned.

"I have the ball." Charlie West replied. He lined up a kilometer behind the _Wild Fox_ and started his course to the landing bay.

Milo grunted in wonder. "You know, from this angle, it looks almost like that ship is turning into…"

* * *

_McCloud Flight_

The Primal manned fighters, _Helion_ class, were an angry swarm that closed in around her. Even with the mobility and focus of Merge Mode, Terrany had trouble keeping eyes on them. She was all alone, her wingmen dismissed to get the crippled fighter back to the _Wild Fox_ safely.

One pair of the thirty sent against her shot by, strafing laserfire ahead of them. She reared the plane backwards and pirouetted it around another salvo sent to catch her in the retreat. Their radio transmissions were easily intercepted and translated.

_"Blast that Arwing! How can it __**move**__ like that? It's impossible!"_

_ "They're Arwings, Gulfore! Just don't let up, it can't avoid us forever!"_

_ "Adjunct, I have seen those moves before. It's HER! The one who flew like a demon in the skies of our home!"_

_ "The Pale Demon!"_

_**Pale Demon? **_Terrany thought humorously. _**That's a new one.**_

**Back when your granddad was flying, Andross's flunkies called him "That damn McCloud." Looks like you've been promoted. **

_**Not like it'll mean anything if one of these punks gets off a lucky shot.**_

**Missile!** KIT screamed. **Shoot, five of them!**

With eerie accuracy, her Seraph spun around and lashed out with five single squeezes of the trigger, downing each inbound projectile.

_"By our Lord, she just shot down every last one of our missiles!"_

_ "Keep your heads on!" _The angry leader of the squadron snapped at them. _"Switch to guns only. Work in tandem. Flight pattern Vortas!"_

_

* * *

_

_Inside her mindscape, Terrany stood beside the spectral form of Falco Lombardi, watching the battle unfold at a crawl._

_"We're in trouble here. There's just too many of them. I can't keep track of them all."_

_"Easy, kid." Falco calmed her. "Panicking won't help. Besides, Wyatt said he was sending some Godsight Pods to help out."_

_"And what good is that going to do?"_

_"Think." KIT snapped sternly. "Those things are just floating cameras and communication relays. If you set them up properly, you'll have a clear view of this furball."_

_Terrany blinked, then smacked herself in the forehead…mentally, of course. "Why didn't I think of that?"_

_"You haven't been around Toads as long as I have." KIT observed. "Relax. It's only when you start thinking like them that you have to worry." The digitized consciousness of Falco reached up and manipulated their radar display. It was all but useless in tracking the inbound Godsight Pods, but they were close enough now that they began to link up with the Seraph and fulfill their new programming._

_"There." KIT smirked, as one viewscreen after another popped out of thin air, giving them a wall of realtime feeds. They could see themselves, the Helions, and all points beyond. "What did I tell you?"_

_Terrany harrumphed, and took control of the ship's G-Negator field. The Seraph danced around another ill-timed attack with almost precognitive focus. "Two coming from up high."_

_"Yeah, I see them. Three more from four o'clock low."_

_"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Terrany asked._

_She and Falco's image shared a look._

_The blue avian smiled. "Devious little vixen."_

_Firing for effect, Terrany appeared not to notice the incoming groups of Helion fighters. She let her shields absorb a few punishing blows, drawing them in closer, then surged her Seraph forward. The two groups found themselves on a collision course, and broke out of formation to avoid colliding into one another. In the fracas, Terrany achieved multi-lock on the scrambling ships and fired five Nova laserbursts. The white balls of photonic energy chased after the Helions and exploded on impact, baking their shields dry and vaporizing the ships afterwards._

_"Five down." Terrany said._

_"Yeah, just go easy on the Novas. You know how they overheat." KIT warned her. Something on one of their many views of the battlefield caught his attention, and he zoomed in on the image. "Hey, looks like that Primal flagship's doing something."_

_Able to spare a moment of attention in the heavily truncated timeframe of Merge Mode, Terrany followed his gaze. As the great ship folded and stretched out, Terrany had one sudden thought._

_It was beginning to transform into a bipedal construct._

_"Now that's just plain weird." Terrany uttered._

* * *

_Lead Flight_

Rourke and the 17th Squadron had a front row seat for the Primal ship's transformation.

"Should we shoot it?" Daric asked.

"Sure, if you can figure out what to shoot _at._" Captain Korman said. "The damn thing's changing into some kinda robot."

"Damnit." Rourke uttered quietly. Of all the times for his team to be split up. Right now, he could have really used Milo's insight.

The legs and arms were almost fully formed. Each arm bristled with laser emplacements and missile bays, reoriented to make a deadly configuration from their initial positions. The bridge of the ship was morphing into the head of the beast, resembling a helmet with a long horizontal visor. Those weren't the things that worried him, though.

The enemy carrier had once been filled with manned and unmanned fighters. Now with its payload delivered, the long launch tunnels that had sat underneath the ship in a double-barreled arrangement had shifted to the back of the Primal robot. They lined up behind its shoulders, their leading edges towering over the head.

"Rourke, what's your call?" Korman asked.

"You're the flight lead, Captain."

"Yeah, and you've got the most experience shooting these bastards down!" The basilisk lizard snapped back. "So give me some options here!"

"Stay back and monitor that thing. I'm going to fly in and see if I can't uncover some stress points in its shielding." It was a risky maneuver, flying in solo, but Rourke wasn't about to risk the other Arwings for the mission. Their Model K's were decent, but if push came to shove, his Seraph could literally fly circles around the behemoth. He pushed his Arwing forward even faster, searching for a weakness. Some chink in the armor he hadn't discovered yet.

The head turned and looked at him.

"Oh, geez."

The massive launch tunnels up above its shoulders suddenly lifted up and hinged down, pointing to where the transformed ship's head was looking.

Curls of energy began to collect and coil around the end of the launch tunnels.

"They're CANNONS!" Rourke cried out, pulling back hard on the stick and climbing as fast as he could. "All craft, break! _Break_, damn you!"

The flow of energy particles to the end of the Primal mega-robot's shoulder cannons became more turbulent, flashing across the visible spectrum of colors before settling on a blinding blue white light.

"You heard the man!" Captain Korman echoed the order. The 17th Squadron pulled apart, scattering in all directions. Korman wrenched his neck looking back over his shoulder, expecting the massive energy cannons to pivot after him. Instead, ignoring the fleeing Arwings, the giant robot ship kept looking in the same direction.

"It's not aiming for us." Korman realized, saying it out loud. Rourke heard the warning, and eyeballed its field of fire.

Straight towards the heart of the Tango Line…

The _Wild Fox._

_

* * *

_

_Primal Command Carrier Indomitable_

"Particle Wave Cannon is at 92 percent and climbing." The ship's weapons officer announced. An air of electricity was hovering on the bridge now. The mere sight of their ultimate weapon _charging_ was enough to send the Arwings sent to attack them running for cover.

The Praetor smiled and leaned forward in his chair, resting his chin on his knuckles. "If those pilots were our target, their flight would be over. Order all ships in the fallback position to reassemble behind us. It is time to drive the spear into the heart of this feeble resistance."

"Praetor, we have a rough target lock on the ship that they call _Wild Fox_. I apologize for the inaccuracy…this damned nebula continues to interfere with our targeting arrays."

The Praetor waved off the apology. "You need only get it close." He narrowed his eyes. "When the Particle Wave Cannon is charged, fire immediately."

Another six seconds passed before a positive chime sounded at the weapons officer's console. He let out a feral shriek and jammed his thumb down on the weapons release.

The _Indomitable_ shook from the energy it harnessed.

The two shoulder cannons released their charges, two beams of white hot light that spiraled around each other before colliding a kilometer out.

From the flashpoint that glowed as bright as a star going nova, a beam of energy thirty kilometers in diameter erupted, burning a path through the nebula.

* * *

_The Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

"Move! MOVE!" Grey screamed across the Fleetwide channel, for the 4th Fleet's benefit as well as his own crew. "That thing's shooting for us!"

Updraft squawked, hands rigid on the controls. "I can't, sir!"

_"Landing Bay to Bridge. Just hang on, we've almost got him!"_

Time didn't stand still, but it moved at a crawl. As the rest of the Fleet scattered for cover, the _Wild Fox_ lingered in its position, forced to stay in place as the damaged Arwing of Charlie West flew into the Landing Bay. All the while, the blistering attack from the Primal command ship was streaking closer at speeds that made evasion almost futile to begin with. 40,000 kilometers between the command ship and the _Wild Fox_, and that massive beam of energy was only…

"Seven seconds to impact. Five. Four…" ROB intoned.

"We're not going to get clear!" Captain Hound yelled out. The Arwings of Granger Flight and the 5th Squadron had nowhere to run fast enough.

_"He's locked down! Go! GO!" _The Landing Bay operator screamed.

Grey's claws dug into the armrests. "Updraft! BROADSIDE!"

Updraft didn't have to be told twice. He lit the thrusters to maximum and fled parallel to the inbound blast.

Three unlucky _Valkyrie_ class cruisers were caught in the thirty kilometer wide beam. There was a momentary flare where each had been before their transponders went dead.

The _Wild Fox_, for all its efforts, couldn't escape the attack.

It disappeared in the maelstrom.

* * *

_Venomian Airspace_

With Flint, Phoenix 4, bugged out from battle damage, Captain Telemos and Phoenix 2 and 3 found their advantage against the Model K Arwing narrowed three to one. It wasn't enough.

"Damn you, hold still!" Nome snarled. Two more NIFT-29 Coronas blasted out of his missile bays on good tone, but the Arwing made a sharp turn, causing the missiles to overshoot when it suddenly dove opposite of its turn. "I can't keep missile lock on him!" He swore again as the Arwing turned the tables with a charged laserburst that tracked in after him. "Gah! I hope the shields on this thing are stronger than our Burnouts were!"

"Jink, Nome!" Telemos shouted. Phoenix 3 did as he was told, hurling through one wild turn after another. The homing laserburst finally lost its tracking and flew off harmlessly. The Arwing came up behind Nome, seeking a quick kill as the dazed pilot pulled himself level after the maneuver. Telemos and Saber ended the remote guided Arwing's hopes quickly, strafing the air with converging fields of laserfire. It swerved off the attack and tried to turn into its pursuers.

"Thanks for the save, captain!" Nome thanked his squadron leader.

"You want to thank me, cut him off on the turn!" Telemos ordered.

The dogfight had reached the inevitable midpoint; the two sides each twirling in a corkscrew, trying to put their gun pippers on the other. Phoenix 1 and 2 had the advantage in numbers, but the Model K was no slouch either. They could outrun it, but the four thrusters of the Arwing were geared towards maneuverability. With the white and blue ship's wings fully extended, it curved gracefully, steadily pulling away from Telemos and Saber while coming up behind them. The spiral was a more sophisticated version of chicken.

Whoever flinched first would break out of the turn and run. And they would become the hunted. It seemed that the Arwing would be the hunter of the expedition, at least until a heavy blast of laser energy came crashing down from above. Caught in the beam, the Arwing shuddered from the distortions of its fluctuating shielding. It broke clear of the turn and took off in a blast of its boosters, and Phoenix 3 screamed down past his wingmen a moment later, whooping like a maniac.

"He sure didn't like that!"

"Yes, but the charge beam didn't destroy it." Telemos sobered his wingman. "Maneuverable and a tough nut. Get after him!"

Phoenix 2 and 3 swiveled about and tore after him. Their forward angled wings folded back in and melded to form a massive diamond wing around the cockpit, giving them the speed to quickly catch up to their prey. Easily keeping pace, they began firing close range bursts into the Arwing's flank.

The Arwing responded by releasing a glowing red ember ahead into its flight path. A second later, the ember exploded into a massive red fireball of energy. It flew through unscathed, but the trailing Phoenix fighters couldn't pull free in time. Their screams rattled the team's radio frequency in time with the wailing warning signals from their gauges.

"Saber! Nome!" Telemos cried out. His wingmen emerged a moment later from the fireball with evident battle damage. The armchair pilot guiding the Arwing had made a risky gamble; by suffering a few cheap blows, he'd narrowed the distance and lured them into a trap.

"Engine output falling. Shields at critical!" Nome reported. The obsidian and crimson color scheme of his ship showed signs of bubbling and warping; metal fatigue caused by extreme heat and energy discharge.

Telemos ground his teeth together so hard that he bit the inside of his cheek. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth brought him back to his senses. He zeroed in on the Arwing, turning back for the killstroke on his wingmen.

"Fall back." Telemos ordered. "I'll cover your retreat."

"But sir, we…"

"I said _fall back!"_ Telemos screamed, driving Saber's protests to a screeching halt. The damaged Phoenix fighters complied with the order, and Telemos veered up into the Arwing's flight path. It changed its angle of attack slightly, moving to meet him head-on.

Telemos took in a deep breath. The Arwing charged its homing laserburst. He readied his charge beam. He swallowed back the blood from his self-inflicted wound and reached for a switch that they had not used yet.

He remembered what Terrany McCloud was like. How she fought. How she flew. This Arwing, controlled by some Primal high in the echelon, was a pale echo of that fiery, albino vixen. There were rumors that the "Seraph Arwings" could maneuver beyond anything else in the skies. Scraps of footage had been taken by the missile cruiser that had attacked Lunar Base. In McCloud's hands, it would dance. If it did possess such a trick, Telemos was only angrier for it.

She hadn't used it on him. If she had, her victory would have been cheapened. And he might be able to sleep peacefully.

_You have your tricks, McCloud…and I have mine._

"Activating Ghost Drive." Telemos said woodenly. He toggled the switch from standby to Active, and the Phoenix began to thrum as a new power generator came online.

"No, captain!" Saber shouted as his fighter faded away from the battle. "Don't do it. We've never tried that system before! What if it fails?"

"Then I die _trying_!" Telemos snapped. He killed his radio so no other protests could distract him.

The Arwing fired another one of its red bombs. Telemos smiled and pressed a small switch on his throttle left untouched before.

His angular Phoenix shimmered for a moment, then disappeared into thin air. The bomb exploded and struck nothing.

The Arwing came through the blast unscathed, turning sharply to try and identify where Telemos had gone off to.

With a faint shimmer, Phoenix 1 reappeared behind the Arwing. A nimbus of laserlight glowed between the prongs of its nose.

Telemos offered no witticism, no snarky smile. He steadied his aim and fired off another terrible beam. It caught the Arwing completely off guard, boring through its shield on the starboard side. The starboard wing struggled under the damage, glowing red hot before it exploded, throwing the Arwing off course.

Trailing smoke from its clipped wing, the Arwing went into a looping vertical turn and took aim at him. Again, it fired another terrible bomb, this time punctuating the attack with several laser shots.

Telemos's warning alarm tracked the lock. Fighting a sudden wave of nausea that had come up, he pressed the trigger for his Ghost Drive, and disappeared again only a moment before the explosion engulfed him.

Now wise to the move, the Arwing spun wildly at the last moment, anticipating the Primal's re-entry to normal space.

It only had a twenty degree turn to port to line up at the spacetime distortion where Telemos was reappearing. It took aim and fired at the same time as Telemos did.

The Phoenix absorbed the blistering triple salvo of twinned laserbolts, punished but still flying.

The counterattack Telemos returned was dead on. The shields sputtered out, and the canopy protecting the cockpit shattered into splinters of transparisteel. The ship's critical controls shorted out and sparked, and fire engulfed the empty cockpit.

Defeated, the Arwing began to spiral towards the ground below. Telemos didn't give it a chance to crash. One more charge beam incinerated its remains.

His head was spinning, a sudden headache taking hold of him. Telemos quickly set the ship to autopilot with a croaked verbal command and reactivated his radio. "Special target eliminated…The Ghost Drive works, but there seems to be some side effects."

"You think?" Saber snapped, sounding more livid than usual. "Captain, the Ghost Drive is based on the technology of the Ancients! How could you take such a risk?"

"Because the Tribunes wanted to see if we had the fire in our hearts to fight these Arwings with everything we had." Telemos wearily responded. The nausea was subsiding…he'd only made two jumps, thankfully. Something during the transition did not react well to his presence. The ship had gone through the interdimensional phasing without complaint.

_"Phoenix Squadron, we confirm the destruction of the special target. Congratulations on your victory. The Tribunes are pleased."_ The radio controller let them enjoy two seconds of peace before he gave them their next order. _"Return to base for debriefing and testing, bearing 260."_

"On our way." Captain Telemos grunted. He rolled his head forward and deactivated the autopilot, taking the lead as Phoenix 2 and 3 took up their positions on his wing. The three Phoenix fighters set out on their course and made a slow dive through the greenish cloud cover of their barren homeworld.

"They will poke and prod at me to see what damage the Ghost Drive caused to my body. They will likely grill you two on the capabilities of that Arwing I destroyed. This knowledge will help the Armada in the battles to come."

"And when will we fly against Starfox, then?" Saber asked.

Telemos shook his head. "Not today. Not tomorrow."

"When, then?" Nome prodded his captain.

The disgraced noble without a last name kept his gaze set ahead, seeing a shadow of the white vixen, the so-called "Pale Demon" in his reflection.

"When we are ready."

* * *

_The SDF Flagship Vigilant_

Time seemed to stand still around Admiral Markinson. The panda could only watch in horror as the Primal flagship unleashed an attack of such power, there was only one word to describe it.

_Annihilation._

Three Valkyrie cruisers disappeared off of his radar; the _Saltflash, _the _Headwind_, and the _Corrant_. And then the _Wild Fox_ vanished in the same storm of energy that had scattered his fleet.

"God, no." He heard his voice utter. The sentiment was shared by everyone else on the bridge.

The annihilation beam lasted two and a half seconds before it gave out, leaving emptiness in its wake.

Somehow, inexplicably, the _Wild Fox_ was still there.

"I'll be damned." Markinson whispered.

The _Wild Fox_ wobbled for a moment, then turned and listed to the side. It had survived, but its port dorsal wing had been blown off, and the whole side of the ship was blackened.

The radio sputtered and crackled as the surviving Godsight Pods struggled to re-establish a connection in the void that the beam had cut.

_"We're still here, Admiral."_ General Grey's voice sounded. Wailing sirens echoed in the background.

The Arwings of Granger Flight and the 5th Squadron flew away from the undamaged side of the ship. Belatedly, Markinson realized that General Grey had turned the ship's course to make it a sacrificial shield for the Arwings.

_"We're ALL here." _The Starfox pilot Granger added stonily.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

It seemed like every alarm that could possibly go off on board the ship was. Sasha was doubled over with her hands pressed tightly over her ears, and General Grey wasn't doing much better.

"Will _somebody_ kill that damn racket?"

ROB's visor brightened momentarily, and the noises ended with a chirp. "If it wasn't clear, this ship has suffered critical damage." The ship's robot controller noted.

"Yeah, but the Arwings are safe." Wyatt pointed out for ROB's benefit. "And we can't afford to lose them. I'm just amazed this ship could take that kind of punishment…I thought we were goners!"

"It seems that the effectiveness of shields powered by this vessel's Vacuum Impulse Drive is magnified by several levels." ROB offered. "However, all screens are down, and the shield emitter capacitors have all burned out. We are without protection. Also, the port side of the ship has been heavily injured and the upper port wing has been destroyed. I am reading power fluctuations throughout the ship, and several overloaded and fused circuit nodes."

"Save me the list." Grey sighed. "What do we got that's good?"

"The FTL and portal generators are still functioning."

"What…that's it?" Wyatt exclaimed.

"That is, as Peppy often said, "The whole ball of wax." ROB confirmed. "We will need to dock at a facility to effect repairs. The damage incurred is beyond our ability to undo."

"Shit." Wyatt tumbled out of his chair and raced for the turbolift. He jerked a small communicator out of his lapel pocket and thumbed it on. "Ulie! Get my toolkit and meet me in the power core!" He smashed a webbed hand against the button and the door slid open, still functional after the hit. Ulie's voice mumbled something inaudible to the rest of the bridge crew, and Wyatt's skin darkened. "Like I give a shit what Wilson fell into. Move it, or we're space dust!" The elevator doors closed shut on him, and left the bridge without its chief engineer.

"Perfect." Grey thumbed his radio button. "Admiral, we're dead in the water here. It's up to you now."

_"All right, General." _Admiral Markinson said. Now that the shock of the attack had worn off, rage was replacing it. _"We'll give 'em Hell for this. Attention, all Arbiter spacecraft! You are reassigned to the defense of the Wild Fox. Arwings? You're coming with me."_

Grey slumped back in his seat and pulled his cap off. "Creator hang it all."

_"You going to be okay, Wild Fox?" _Milo Granger called out.

"We're alive, Sergeant." Grey answered. "You want to do us a favor, you kick their ass."

_"Yes. SIR." _Granger snapped back.

The Arbiters of the 4th Fleet flew into position, swarming madly around the _Wild Fox_ like a band of hornets protecting the hive. The rest of the Fleet tore off from their position towards the battered Primal Armada, with the assortment of Model K and Seraph Arwings leading the charge.

Grey kept his thumb on the talk button of his chair. "Good luck, Starfox."

* * *

_Primal Carrier Indomitable_

"The _Wild Fox _was hit, Praetor, but it survived!" The weapons officer yelped.

The Praetor ground his teeth together. The ship they had set as the main target was indeed still flying, though it no longer moved and struck with impunity. The scarring it carried was substantial.

"Another attack will finish it." The Praetor stated. "Aim and fire again."

"Uh…my apologies, Praetor, but the Particle Wave Cannon will take three hexacycles to recharge for a second firing." The weapons officer swallowed before adding, "I have already started the charge."

The concession was small relief, and the Praetor let out a cry of disgust. "What good is a weapon you can only fire once?" He waved his hand towards the approaching Cornerian fleet on the viewscreen. "All we have done is enraged them!"

"They cannot win." His second in command announced defiantly. "Even now, the Armada forms around us for a combined assault."

"Then it is time we finished this." The Praetor took his seat. "Order the Armada forward. The Cornerians march to their death. We will march to bring it to them."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

"Easy, take it easy." Nurse Ermsdale cautioned Dana. The advice was little consolation to the recovering test pilot, who was more than fed up ad being kept bedridden while the rest of her squadron risked their lives on the battlefield.

"Oh, let her get up and walk around if she wants." Dr. Bushtail snapped. "Just let her pick herself up if she falls over."

"I'm not that dizzy." Dana complained. She slid off of the medical cot and walked slowly over to the simian medical practitioner. "How's she doing?"

"Terrany's at 85 percent Synch." Bushtail replied.

Dana blinked. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Apparently, it is." The doctor tapped on the screen, to where it had crested. "It spiked when those Godsight Pods arrived to aid her."

"How do you know that?" Dana frowned. "I thought you only tracked biometrics."

"Wyatt sent me an intership E-Mail before we were hit." Bushtail explained. "I asked him to keep me apprised of any notable events while our pilots are Merged."

"So right now…she's fighting those thirty Primal fighter spacecraft."

A low chirp came from the primate's computer. Sherman brought up a different screen briefly, grunted, and shut it away. "Twenty-two fighters now." He corrected the tigress. "And she's not fighting. She's _winning_."

Dana scrutinized his expression. "So how come you're not happy about it?" When the doctor said nothing, she prodded him again. "Is it the fall during De-Merging you're worried about?"

Dr. Bushtail shook his head, too ashamed to look at his patient. "For Terrany, it's more of a crash."

* * *

_Lead Flight_

"It's getting kinda _crowded_ around here!" The 17th pilot called Gunther called out hurriedly. The Primal Armada had been pulling in around the transformed flagship, and with every other Cornerian asset still out of reach, it put them in the hotseat. "We've gotta get clear of them, retreat!"

"Not this time." Captain Korman rasped. "Hit and run isn't an option this go-around. As soon as we broke off, they'd pick us off like flies."

"We've gotta get _closer_, then!" Rourke ordered. "It's the only way!"

The Arwings flew into the heart of the Primal formation, lining up their sights on the main target and foregoing the rest. Strangely, the Primals didn't fire on them.

"This doesn't make any sense." One of the other 17th pilots, Titus Angor, remarked. "How come they aren't attacking us?"

"Because the Primal in charge here is thinking long term." Rourke said. "They aimed for the _Wild Fox_, our launch platform. They take out our roaming home base, their job is suddenly a lot easier. We give them the chance, they _will_ take out my ship." Rourke's Arwing fled on ahead of the others and popped open its secondary wings. An electronic undercurrent accented his voice. _**"Let's not give them that chance."**_

Flying as one, the Arwings of Lead Flight opened fire on the robot carrier.

* * *

_Primal Flagship Indomitable_

The ship shuddered slightly under a sudden barrage of attacks.

"It's the Arwings, Praetor! They have begun firing on us!" The tactical officer cried out.

"Damage?" The Praetor asked.

The tactical officer checked his readouts, and calmed back down. "Negligible, sir. Our shields are holding. Shall I order the fleet to assist?"

"No." The Praetor rubbed at his chin. "They are to stay on course, and meet the Cornerian line. We will deal with these insects ourselves."

He leaned back in his seat, and the weapons officer set his targeting array for the brawl. The crew was startled when their Praetor laughed. Loudly.

"What is wrong, Praetor?"

"Nothing." The head of the Armada gloated. "I was just realizing how ridiculous our fear of the Arwings and this Starfox is…when they can't even harm us."

"But they have taken out the bulk of our fighters and a handful of our capital ships, sir."

"They have a mighty sting, true." The Praetor admitted. "But against walls of fire-forged steel, they are helpless." His eyes glowed with the accolades he would receive this day. The destruction of the Starfox homeship that had attacked Venom. The obliteration of the last Cornerian resistance.

Perhaps even the end of every Arwing that was left. It would begin with their second shot.

"Two minutes until Particle Wave Cannon reaches full power." The weapons officer reported.

"Target the Arwings with our normal weapons systems. Shoot them down."

* * *

The Arwings' lasers caused the shield around the mutated ship to flare, but seemed to cause little, if any, damage. Not even Rourke's Nova Lasers cut through the protection.

_**"Well, there went my plan."**_ Rourke grumbled, ignoring the squealing laughter from his ODAI. _**"Anybody else have a brilliant idea?"**_

The slumbering vessel finally took notice of them, and its arms swung up, leveling the host of guns towards the assembled Arwings.

"Just one…SCATTER!" Captain Korman cried out. Their flight of five broke apart just as the artillery from the mounted guns on the beast's right forearm opened up. A ridiculous spray of laserbolts screamed through the hole of their expanding formation, then trailed after Rourke's Seraph in a rising arc. Rourke led it by a good hundred meters, and carefully made sure he kept that distance. It was a delaying tactic only: The left arm of the carrier robot was coming around and pointing ahead of him: It would catch him by leading its shot.

_**"I could use an assist here…" **_Rourke's altered voice pleaded.

"Just hang on to your boots, Starfox." Korman cautioned him. The basilisk guided his Model K towards the firing line and dove down on the right arm, foregoing a charge shot for a constant stream of bolts. The shields around the cannons sparked in protest, but under the relentless assault, finally gave way.

Two of the cannons were blown apart, leaving strewn tendrils of slag trailing from the wound. "Bingo!" Korman whooped, banking away hard as the autocannons on the robot's head opened up on him. "Basic shield mechanics 101."

Rourke mentally kicked himself for forgetting a cardinal rule of combat. He spoke it aloud to strengthen it in his mind. _**"The weakest layer of shielding is around where outbound energy weapons are firing. Good thinking, captain."**_

"We surprised them once." Korman warned the others. "The rest of this Armada is letting Big Daddy here take us on alone…but don't lose your focus. One swing could smash us to pieces."

A wild roundhouse from the undamaged left arm nearly clipped Korman's wings, and his Arwing wobbled to right itself from the miss.

"Like that." The 17th Squadron leader amended.

Rourke veered around the backside of the mechanized form's head and noticed something else to be concerned about.

A locus of power seemed to be building around the mutated shoulder cannons.

_**"It's getting ready to fire again." **_He announced, and all the small talk stopped.

* * *

_Sector Y_

_Midpoint_

"The Primal ships have opened fire, Admiral!" The radar operator aboard the _Vigilant_ reported. Captain Gireau, who remained seated in the command chair as his superior officer paced the top of the command deck, shouted for evasive maneuvers and looked back to the panda for orders.

Admiral Markinson was pacing, but his eyes hadn't left the spotty and glitched radardome image, showing the _Vigilant's_ position at the center, the clustered allied ships of the 4th Fleet in blue, and the Primal Armada as red. Their inbound shots were highlighted in a dangerous orange.

He was considered a brilliant tactician in the officer corps; case studies were done at the Cornerian Academy on his engagements. Up to this point in the fight, he had let himself be relegated to second in command, letting General Grey and the _Wild Fox_ lead their maneuvers. The tactic had proven to be a valid one at the time. It had preserved the bulk of the 4th Fleet by putting them in a defensive posture while the 17th, 5th, 21st, and Starfox Arwing squadrons reorganized into a three pronged attack.

Now the _Wild Fox_ was dead in the water and a sitting duck, which meant the game plan had changed. His entire host of Arbiter fighters were keeping an eye on the damaged ship, but it left the Fleet precariously vulnerable to enemy snub fighter attack. Only the Arwings of the 5th and 21st Squadrons, along with two Seraphs, remained on fighter support.

And they were flying ahead of the Fleet, burning fusion trails at a pace the larger capital ships couldn't match.

"Put me through to the Arwings' Comm channel." Markinson ordered. The radio operator pushed the necessary buttons on his touchscreen and threw a thumbs up to the panda. Markinson took in a breath, then started in. "Listen, I know you're all mad as Hell about the _Wild Fox_, but you've gotta keep your heads on. Stick close to the Fleet."

_"They __**shot at us**__ when Chuck was __**landing!**__"_ The angry red fox called Mike Chase snarled in reply. _"They got no freaking decency, Admiral!"_

"And no sense of restraint either, pilot." Admiral Markinson snapped back. "So you stay in formation with the Fleet, or they _will_ kill you. And I'm not about to lose one of the SDF's last remaining Arwings because its pilot had a _revenge complex_. Understood?"

His eyes flickered up to the radar display as the _Vigilant_ shuddered under the first salvo of laserblasts. To his satisfaction, the Arwings eased off of the throttle and held position at the front of the fleet, weaving through the storm with a dexterity that the larger ships couldn't match.

They also couldn't take the same amount of punishment.

On the channel used by Lead Flight, Lieutenant O'Donnell cut in with a chilling note.

_**"It's getting ready to fire again."**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Wild Fox_

_Power Core_

The Impulse Vacuum Drive was stable, which Wyatt chalked up as a miracle. Everything else around it that drew power from the inexhaustible device, however, was all sorts of dead. The smell of ozone and burned plastic was thicker than any pall of smoke he'd ever faced before, and his bulbous eyes watered freely.

He kept a socket wrench clamped firmly between his lips and grunted out his order. "Crmmp!"

Fully versed in stuff-mouth jargon, the black bear and second lead engineer Ulie Darkpaw fished out the required piece from Wyatt's toolkit. "Clamp."

Wyatt jammed the piece into the main power junction box and twisted hard. A spark of power snapped out and lashed against the wrench in his mouth. He twitched with a grunt, then spat out the metal with a roar. "Damn it!"

Ulie checked the power reader he'd jacked into the box's diagnostics panel. "No amps yet, boss."

"So I didn't die from a hundred thousand bzzrrrts." Wyatt snapped. "It doesn't help out any. I've gotta reroute power to the thrusters here, and t he wiring's deader than my junk bike."

Ulie brought up a live schematic of the _Wild Fox's_ power distribution network. "We could reroute it through Navigation, maybe. Port 326."

"Navigation? You're nuts." Wyatt complained. "Soon as we put the main feed through, the circuit'll fry."

"We don't exactly have a lot of options, boss." Ulie reminded his superior.

"Well, find me a reroute through a circuit line that can handle the load, then." Wyatt picked up his socket wrench and craned his head in closer. "I'm nearly ready for the switchover here."

Ulie made an unsure noise. "Port 32 still looks viable."

Wyatt's clattering ceased. "The spacetime portal generator?"

"Yeah." Ulie nodded quickly. "Outside of the weapons, shields, and propulsion, it draws the biggest load. It was off when we got hit, so…"

"It'd be undamaged." Wyatt wiped his sleeve on his forehead. "We'll lose the jump gate."

"It'd take half an hour to charge anyways."

The ship's intercom sputtered back to life, with General Grey's voice more perturbed than usual. _"Wyatt, can you hear me?"_

"What did you touch?" Wyatt demanded, looking to Ulie.

The black bear lifted his paws out in front of him. "It wasn't me, boss."

"ROB, then." Wyatt reached up and slapped the intercom on the wall. "Yeah, General?"

_"The Primal mothership is charging up that big gun again. Rourke's flight is doing what they can, but…"_

"How long?" Wyatt interrupted tersely.

Grey paused for half a heartbeat. _"94 seconds."_

Wyatt pounded the intercom back off, instantly back to work. "Open up Port 32, Ulie. Looks like we're doing this fast and stupid."

"So how's that different than usual, Wyatt?" Ulie glibly retorted.

Wyatt blew his lips and kept tearing through the broken junction box. "If we live through this, you're fired."

"What, no performance review?" Ulie rolled his eyes. The ursine mechanic's claws flew over his uplinked datapad. "So much for tenure."

* * *

_Lead Flight_

_ "Captain Korman, you have got to stop that flagship __**now.**__"_ Admiral Markinson ordered.

Korman grunted as he swerved to avoid another wild haymaker from the robot ship. "We're _working_ on it, Admiral." One of his pilots dove in on the head and peppered it with gunfire, distracting the tracking sensors. A bruising retort from the head-mounted vulcans nearly clipped off a wing as it retreated.

"Friggin' Hell, it almost got me there!" Gunther swore. "We need a plan, a _real_ one!"

"This is your show, Starfox." Korman noted coolly. "What do you have running through your head?"

Rourke was interrupted by a broad-frequency, unencrypted communication. The face of what had to be the Primal commander laughed at them.

_"It's not so easy, is it Starfox?" _The nearly hairless, smooth-skinned Primal sneered at them. _"I'll crush you all into scrap, and your precious fleet will be vaporized. And do you know what I find most amusing? You can't do anything to __**stop it!"**_ He laughed again, and the line cut out.

"That rotten son of a bitch." Daric spat. "Who does he think he is?"

_**"He's dead." **_Rourke said, grimmer than before. _**"And here's how we're going to do it. Do you think you and your men could make him angry, captain?**_

"How angry?" Vic "Viper" Korman asked.

_**"Angry enough for him to lose control." **_Rourke explained his plan, and the basilisk slowly began to smile.

It just might work.

"Fall back and form on my wing." Korman ordered his men. "Time to pull the monkey's tail."

* * *

In every operation since their defense of Corneria, the _Wild Fox_ had been there to coordinate, to support, and to inspire. Now that the great ship was silent and immobile, Sergeant Granger began to realize how badly he missed its presence. That seemed to be a sentiment shared by the rest of the 4th Fleet as well. Even with the Arwings, they were disorganized and slower to react to Markinson's orders.

The countdown to destruction didn't help matters, either. In a single burst of its high energy beam, the Primal mothership had reversed the battle's momentum.

The Primals were using it well.

"Close up formation!" Captain Hound barked. "Shafer, stick with your wingman, don't let 'em pull you off alone!"

"I don't got a stinkin' wingman, and I don't need one!" The unbalanced koala giggled. His Model K dove over an SDF ship, dropped a smart bomb on the forward cannons of a Primal cruiser, then retreated back behind cover before they could react.

_"They're pushing hard on us, we can't take much mooAAAAAAUGH!"_ The frantic cry for help was cut short when the massed Primal line ventilated a smaller cruiser who had been running support for the line.

"Close in on that hole, don't let any of them through!" Milo banked towards the debris field, doing his best to put the display of fiery metal and frozen corpses out of his mind. The others took the shock in stride, and it was the rookie pilot Wallaby Preen who led the charge. Even Merged, the marsupial found enough rage in him to let out a bloodcurdling scream and sling Nova laserfire in a wild, but dead-aimed arc. The barrage hit with more force than the Model K's could muster on blue hyper lasers alone, and temporarily slowed the Primal interdiction.

A fresh wave of support fire flew over their canopies, softening the Primal ships as the Arwings closed in. To the credit of the 5th and 21st Squadrons, only Wallaby took a hit. Even then, Milo was sure he'd only absorbed the punishing lance of energy just to maintain his angle of fire.

The Primals still had more ships than they did, and the ferocious counterattack from the Arwings wasn't nearly as effective as Milo would have liked.

"How are the Pulse Laser capacitors?"

_"I would not advise Pulse Laser use at this time, Pilot Granger."_ His ODAI answered.

"I figured you'd say that." Milo swung into another barrel roll, deflecting a burst of laserfire as he dropped altitude. "But we're losing this fight. I've gotta do something."

_"In 61 seconds, the situation will change regardless."_ The Seraph's AI pointed out.

"For better or worse." Milo agreed, and put the disturbing possibilities out of his mind to focus on his flying.

* * *

_McCloud Flight (Solo)_

_Working with mechanical precision and coldblooded method, Terrany had whittled down the flight of 30 manned Helions. Now only fourteen were left, less than half. The ones that remained were bound to the fight by their stubborn pride and her deadly aim; One had tried to get clear for a wide turnaround, and been strafed into three pieces for its trouble._

_ She was aware of what all had been going on; her interlink to the rest of the 4__th__ Fleet by the Godsight Pods granted her full awareness of the bigger picture. She only managed a glance every few seconds, even while Merged. The Synch percentage also kept her on her toes working with Falco, but though the two worked well together, one thing continued to bother her._

_ It turned flying into a far less visceral act._

_ Beside her in the depths of their Merged minds, the spiritual echo of KIT turned his curved beak towards her. "If I'm such a pain, why don't you just de-Merge?"_

_ "You know why we can't do that." Terrany told him. "And you're not a pain. It's just different. When I've got my hand on the stick and I'm spiraling through a dogfight, matching wild maneuvers, I'm pushing myself." _

_ She looked between the display feeds from the Godsight Pods arranged around her chosen battleground, marking which Helions were closing in. They were getting smarter as their numbers dwindled off. They grouped their shots to try and corral her towards a killzone, a tactic that might have worked if the Seraph wasn't also able to receive and decode their transmissions, rendering the attack harmless. She and the Falco form agreed on a maneuver, and the Seraph circled over a blast of gunfire, retaliating with three squeezes of the Novas that baked its shields dry. In its haste to retreat, the wounded Helion lost track of his surroundings and smashed into the starboard wing of another member of his flight. The resulting fireball destroyed both of their fighters._

_ "I'm getting lazy here." Terrany concluded bitterly. "I can see them coming from every angle. I can hear every trick they're planning. We're thinking and moving so fast that they can't catch us off guard, and they can barely hit us. I don't like it."_

_ "It's a secret weapon, and a temporary one." Falco's ghost reiterated. His eyes went above them in the open white environment, where a digital clock counted down a readout. It had started at five minutes…now it was at twenty seconds. "And it's about to run out. I know what you're afraid of, and we're out of time. If you were going to do something drastic here, I'd get started."_

_ "Because once we de-Merge, things get ugly." Terrany tapped her head. "And I don't know how bad off I'm going to be."_

_ "So you get a headache." The AI consoled her. "Pop an aspirin and get over it. I get tired of women using that excuse."_

_ Terrany guffawed and shook her snout left and right. "Easy, killer."_

_ The enemy formation was closing in on her; they had each found an angle of attack, moving in from all sides. Any attempt to dodge would result in her being put in another fighter's gunsights._

_ "I've got an idea." Terrany blurted out. She and KIT looked at each other, and the blue avian's eyes twinkled._

_ "Good thing we've got G-Negators."_

_

* * *

_

Outside in the real world, Terrany's Seraph tumbled for a moment, pivoting around an invisible gyroscopic axis. She remained at the center of the inbound cluster of fighters, and could hear their translated language perfectly.

_"Look at her! She doesn't know what to do, except stumble around!"_

_ "It's time we put the Pale Demon out of our minds. All craft, watch your aim, and let her have it. No escape!"_

Her body's face twitched in a smile as it lay back against the seat. The ring finger on her right hand twitched, and the movement was translated into the launch of a small dot of deep blue light from under her Arwing's belly, bordering on violet.

It flew only 100 meters before the projectile exploded in a maelstrom of brilliant energy, flaring white just before the reaction imploded in on itself. Visible only by the contrails of energy that swirled to its center, the artificial micro-singularity pulled hard on everything around it…

Everything, save the Merged Seraph Arwing that twirled away from the maelstrom, weaving through the tumbling fighters that spun out of control.

_"I can't pull out!"_

_ "Controls aren't responding!"_

_ "NooooOOOOOOOO!"_

The horrified screams of her enemies drowned into each other, and she killed the intercepted radio feeds. She could see the Helions being drawn towards, and even into the microsingularity her G-Bomb had created. She didn't need to hear the sounds of shrieking, warping steel and the death gurgles of the pilots as their cockpits depressurized.

Whatever noise they still made after she cut them off was silenced when the microsingularity destabilized and released a massive gamma ray burst that incinerated everything within 500 meters of the flashpoint.

In the silence that followed, the Seraph's chronometer ticked down the last few seconds of her time in Merge Mode, then shut the system down.

The G-Negator pods folded back together, first horizontally, then vertically until the blue crystal-shaped nodes between the wings and fuselage were whole again. The secondary wingsets retracted back into their grooves on the main wingforms, and the twin thrusters at the back of the ship roared to life once more.

And inside the cockpit, the most important part of the ship gasped for air as waves of crippling pain slammed into her head, the price of a mind pushed to its limits and suddenly dropped cold.

A gurgling scream passed her lips, and took the last vestige of awareness with it. She slumped backwards into her seat, lost to darkness after bathing in five minutes of light.

Wordlessly, KIT switched the Seraph to autopilot and set the ship on a course for the crippled _Wild Fox._

Her battle was over.

* * *

_Lead Flight_

Following Rourke's plan to the letter, the 17th Squadron peppered the transformed command ship with laserfire, focusing entirely on its outer weapons systems. Under their combined fire, rows of laser turrets exploded, sending out jets of gas and plasma fires from the ruptured power conduits. The damage was so severe that the resulting explosions weakened the shielding around its forelimbs; A charged burst fired more to distract than damage tore through the arm segment of the robot ship at the elbow.

"Woah!" Titus whooped. "He's gotta be angry after THAT!"

A shrieking roar crashed through the unencrypted frequency. _"Filthy whelps! You will DIE for that!" _The last remaining arm swung up and fired unceasingly at the Model K arwings, who struggled to survive the storm.

"Yeah, he's angry." Korman grunted. His eyes flickered to the countdown clock to firing that sat in the corner of his HUD. "24 seconds, Rourke! Do or die time!"

_**"We've got the doing, they've got the dying." **_Rourke answered mechanically. His Seraph, unnoticed by the now enraged ship and its crew, floated down from behind it and swerved around its shoulders. _**"Fall back, you've done your part."**_

"We're not leaving you on your own with this…"

_**"Captain, if you don't leave now, the explosion will take you out too." **_Rourke advised the elder pilot gravely. Another burst of laserfire from the robot ship cemented the decision.

"Roger that. Falling back!" Korman bugged out of the command ship's engagement zone, turning in one successive aileron roll after another to survive the hail of gunfire that chased him. The rest of his squadron followed suit, leaving Rourke alone at the thing's shoulders…

Energy coalescing at the mounted cannons pointed on either side of its neck.

* * *

_Indomitable_

"Energy charge will complete in…nine…eight…"

So angry that his face was red from the blood boiling underneath his skin, the Praetor smashed his teeth together. "Fire as soon as charging is complete." He pointed to the radio operator. "Open channel, one last time."

"But, Praetor, I…"

"DO IT!" The leader of the Primal Armada screamed. The communications officer swallowed and did as he was commanded.

The Praetor drummed his fingers twice, then spoke again. "Too late, Starfox!" He bellowed. "Say goodbye to your FLEET!"

* * *

Invisible to the Primal flagship's sensors as he weaved around the brilliant confusing glow of energy at the shoulder cannons, Rourke heard the broadcast as clear as everyone else did.

_"Say goodbye to your FLEET!"_

It took him only half a second to line up in front of the turret on its right shoulder and aim his targeting reticule. Dumb-firing a G-Bomb, Rourke powered up his normal radio circuits and delivered a message in tandem with the spiraling blue and white orb.

_**"Say goodbye to yours, asshole."**_

The shot passed through the nimbus of terrible energy and soared into the unshielded, unprotected bay beyond. Glimmering from the wash of power it had passed through, the projectile wobbled on before it struck a hard surface:

The main electromagnetic focusing array of the Annihilator Cannon.

* * *

_Indomitable_

A minor tremor passed through the ship, felt even in the bridge after that cold and callous comeback. Their consoles flickered briefly, as if some great fluctuation had passed through the grid, but the weapons officer was running on orders and instinct.

_Two…One…_

He pushed the trigger of the Particle Wave Cannon.

_Then_ the world exploded.

* * *

The initial explosion not only destroyed the EM focusing array, but it also smashed the entire shoulder cannon, as surely as if a giant had wrapped a hand around the hollow tube and crushed it. The nimbus of power at the cannon's forefront was sucked back the direction it had come, causing untold damage to the conduits along the route before it was sucked into the G-Bomb's microsingularity in narrow threads.

Without its duplicate, the left cannon fired what power it had collected. It spiraled on ahead, a lonely unpaired attack that was little better than an amped up turbolaser battery. The shot cleared two thousand kilometers, then collapsed to no effect.

Cut short, disrupted by the crippling power feedback loops from its ruined starboard turret, the command carrier's power generator went into cascade failure.

The shielding failed first, and then explosions went off throughout its body, belching torrents of fire out into space.

All of this before the microsingularity collapsed, and ripped one entire side of the ship's body off from the excess power it had collected.

Through the open line that the Primal commander had stubbornly kept open, every ship, Primal and Cornerian, could hear the shrieking alarms and cries of terror from the doomed vessel.

_"Who are you?" _The Praetor screamed, as Rourke's transformed Seraph hovered up in clear view of the bridge in the thing's scarred head. _"Who in Flame's name are you?"_

Too angry, too enraged, too bitter at the fight's cost, Rourke shoved aside all his customary charm and wit. He squeezed off two shots at point blank range into the bridge, ending the lives of all within.

_**"We're STARFOX!" **_Rourke roared. He turned around and de-Merged, pushing his reawakened thrusters to maximum burn.

The_ Indomitable_'s power core went from cascade failure to critical overload, and the once proud flagship of the Primal Fleet vanished in nuclear fire.

* * *

_SDF Flagship Vigilant_

From doomsday to salvation.

Markinson stumbled where he stood, watching as the visual display of the distant enemy flagship morphed into a massive fireball.

Stunned silence fell over the bridge, and even the impacts of laserfire slackened off, then ceased.

The radar operator made a surprised noise. "Admiral! Admiral, the Armada…They're retreating!"

A visual sweep of the melee confirmed it. Perhaps out of shock at the loss of their lead ship, perhaps for self-preservation, the remnants of the Primal Armada that had dwarfed their numbers turned about and slipped into the fleeting safety of subspace. With creeping intensity, the crew of the _Vigilant_ erupted into cheers.

The panda didn't realize he'd slumped to the floor until Captain Gireau helped him back up on his feet and escorted him to the command chair.

"This time, Admiral, you're going to sit down." The _Vigilant's_ commanding officer ordered his superior.

To Markinson's credit, he knew when to follow advice. He sat down, took exactly four seconds to close his eyes, take in a cleansing breath, and let it out before continuing.

"All stations, stand down from general quarters. Give me a fleet status update."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

Wyatt and Ulie had worked feverishly, but when the fated moment came, they had failed to reroute power to the engines. The two had accepted imminent death, and blinked at each other mutely when it didn't come.

_"Uhhh…Wyatt, how's the repairs coming?"_

"They're not." Wyatt slapped the intercom. "How come we aren't dead, General?"

_"From what we're hearing on the radio, O'Donnell just saved our asses. The rest of the Primal Armada's in full retreat."_

"Joy." Wyatt drew a hand across his face. "Well, that's great news."

_"Yeah. See what you can do about getting our engines running again, all right?"_

"Sure." Wyatt flipped the intercom off and pulled his cap off. He used it to mop his forehead again and exhaled. "Well."

"Now what do we do, boss?" Ulie asked.

Wyatt gestured irritably to the fried power junction box. "We undo what we just did, which takes five times as long, and then we get this crate running long enough to dock for repairs."

"Guess I'm not fired then."

"No." Wyatt squatted back down. "But this is ridiculous. Our engineering team is good, but we were only supposed to repair Seraphs and the occasional busted piece on Ursa. Now we're constantly having to fix battle damage on the Seraphs, we've got a squadron of Model K's to look after, _and_ this whole flaming ship on top of it all. I've been running on two hours of sleep a day since this mess started if I'm lucky, and I know that everyone else is as tired as I am."

"I didn't think we had time to be tired."

Wyatt scowled. "The General had better _make_ some time. Making the _Wild Fox_ shipshape is going to drive us to the edge. Either we get a break, or we get some more help."

"Preferably both." Ulie added.

Wyatt snorted and reached for his wire cutters. "Only if our luck changes."

* * *

_12 Minutes Later_

The Arwings that were still flying stayed in formation as they swept around the outside of the reformed 4th Fleet. Only the damaged fighter of Charlie West from the 5th and Terrany's Seraph were absent.

"You're absolutely crazy, you know that Starfox?" Captain Korman remarked. "I never thought you'd stare down the barrel of oblivion and punch them in the chin like that. You did good."

"The name's Rourke O'Donnell." The gray-furred wolf called back. "Today, we were _all_ Starfox."

"Well, the 17th owes you a favor, then." Korman said. "Anytime you need us…just call for Raptor squadron."

"Same here, boys." Captain Mulholland said. "Typhoon Squadron repays its debts."

_"All normal Arwing Squadrons, report back to station for refuel and debriefing." _The fleet coordinator cut in.

"What about my boy, Charlie?" Mulholland demanded.

_"Airman West will travel with the Wild Fox for the time being. Once repairs on his ship are completed, he'll rejoin with you and your men, Captain. All Arwings, your original designations are in effect. Typhoon 1, Raptor 1, comply with your orders."_

"Roger." Mulholland muttered. He wiggled his wings before he fell out of the formation, taking his three surviving flyers with him. "You better take care of my boy, O'Donnell."

"You'll see him soon, I'm sure." Rourke chuckled.

Raptor 2, 3, and 4 broke formation as well, though Viper lingered a little longer off of Rourke's wing. The wolf and the basilisk glanced through their canopies at one another, sharing a measured stare.

Vic "Viper" Korman gave Rourke a sharp nod. "Blue skies, Rourke. You're a good flight lead to follow." He banked his Arwing away and turned his radio off, ensuring he had the last word.

That left only Rourke, Milo, Wallaby, and the remaining two pilots of the 21st Squadron in a five man formation.

"We did a good thing today, Rourke." Milo assured the wolf, moving up on his left. "I've been listening in on the Fleet chatter. Markinson's ready to go hunting. We gave him and his fleet the opportunity to finally take the offensive."

"Yeah?" Rourke mused. "We still lost too many people. Too many ships."

"We would have lost more, if you hadn't stopped that flagship cold, son." Captain Hound growled. "I'm going to give you some free advice. You want to mourn the dead, you do what I do. You get drunk one night, you say goodbye, and the next morning you leave it behind with the hangover. Moping doesn't do anyone a lick of good."

"Hey, take it easy on him, boss." Damer chimed in, holding at starboard rear. "You can cut him a little slack."

"He's the flight lead of the Starfox squadron, Creator's sake." Hound snapped back. "It's high time he started acting like it."

Rourke ignored the biting remark and thumbed his headset radio on. "_Wild Fox_, you got an approach vector to the initial?"

_"Uh…that's a negative, Starfox. We're still without power in most of the ship's systems. Wyatt's working on getting the engines back online, but the landing bay and ship turbolift is out. You'll have to follow us until we can land someplace for repairs."_

Rourke led his small flight of three Seraphs and two Model Ks towards the _Wild Fox_, far off from the rest of the clustered 4th Fleet.

"Wait a second. No power? What about a forward landing, backing into the launch bay and coming in manually?"

Sasha's soft, cool voice hesitated, hitching slightly.

_Something's wrong._

_"That's also a no-go. Medical teams are being sent there right now." _Sasha finally added.

As they flew closer to the _Wild Fox_, Rourke realized why. A Seraph Arwing was partially wedged into the front exit, and creeping backwards on maneuvering thrusters into the launch bay. There was only one Seraph unaccounted for.

A lump formed in Rourke's throat. "Terrany."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Launch Bay_

As soon as the Seraph's main engines went from standby to full shutdown and it had collapsed on its landing struts, the hiss of repressurized air filled the long tunnel.

Thirty seconds later, the emergency medical team rushed into the partial atmosphere with a gurney and supplementary oxygen masks.

"Come on, faster! Move, move!" Dr. Bushtail led the charge, adrenaline overcoming his age. "KIT! Lower the ladder!"

Responding to the outside order, the Seraph's AI popped open the canopy with an additional hiss of air and extended the retractable ladder from the side of the fuselage.

One of the EMT's scampered up the frail appendage and leaned in over the cockpit. He looked inside for a few moments, then turned back over his shoulder. "She's alive, but unconscious!"

_"She didn't sustain any physical injuries, but I can't get to her." _KIT said worriedly. _"No matter how much I shout…"_

Gingerly, the EMT undid her harnesses, removed her flight helmet, and hoisted her out of the cockpit. Working in a makeshift fireman's line, she was lowered down to the waiting gurney. The repulsors underneath hummed a little louder to compensate for the weight of the white-furred vixen, and Bushtail was immediately over her.

He opened her eyelids and shone a penlight on her corneas.

"Good response." He muttered to the attending beside him. "Pulse?"

"Normal, doctor." Another paramedic answered quickly. "She's just unresponsive."

Bushtail pressed his lips together tightly. "Get her to the medical bay and put her on monitors."

The paramedics and the unconscious McCloud vanished from the launch bay. Bushtail waited until they were out of sight to slump weakly against the Arwing's ladder.

_"Doc, she's…she's gonna be all right, isn't she?" _KIT asked. _"I mean, she's…"_

"I don't know if she'll be all right." The doctor set a hand over his eyes. "Just…just shut up."

_"Hey, don't get angry at me, bub. It's not my…"_

"And how do you know it's not your fault?" Bushtail screamed up at the plane. The simian pointed his finger up to the empty cockpit, shaking in anger. "Is it worth it? This feeble half-existence of yours that you clung to because you were afraid to die, old bird? Is it worth _her life?_"

KIT offered no further comment, and the exhausted doctor shook his head bitterly. "All this technology, all these advances, and we still make the same mistakes. And she and the others are paying the price for it."

Dr. Bushtail trudged away from the X-1 Seraph, shoulders drooped in defeat.

Trapped inside the memory banks of the plane, Falco Lombardi's copied digital ghost could do nothing but sit, think, and feel the solitude pressing down on him.

It felt heavier.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Command Planning Center_

_2 hours after the Battle of Sector Y_

General Grey was as worried as anyone else about Terrany, but he had bigger problems to worry about. The _Wild Fox_ was still in terrible shape, and though Wyatt and Ulie had somehow found a way to get the engines running, their range was limited. The Toad's estimate had been that they wouldn't last a return trip to Corneria before his patch gave out.

The old dog stared at a holographic map with his tired, but awake second in command. The orange tomcat blinked to clear his eyes and tapped one of the planets in the mockup of the Lylat System. It was highlighted by a blue aura, one of two that remained in a sea of green and red zones of importance.

"Katina's our best bet, Admiral. It doesn't have all the facilities we'd like, but it's within Wyatt's estimated range. And it's still under SDF control." Thomas Dander stuck with the facts.

"Forget about the facilities. How about personnel?" Grey used the solitude of the meeting to remove his cap and let out a sigh he wouldn't ever give in front of the rest of his crew. "Tom, this ship is in need of major repairs and refitting. We've got to somehow rebuild an entire frigging wing section on top of all the repairs to the power grid. Wyatt's been at my throat since he gave me the estimate to give him and his boys some downtime."

"We can't really afford any downtime right now, general." His XO frowned. "We stopped the Primal advance, but we've got to keep pushing forward. Momentum is everything in this war."

"I agree with you on that, Tom." Grey leaned back and looked out the window to the nebula's faint green glow. "But they got us today. We'll still run sorties, but they'll have to be small ones. This ship is…" He made a face, "…down for repairs. Do me a favor."

"Name it, sir."

"Have Sasha pass a message through to SDF Command through Admiral Markinson. His radio has the power to reach that far."

"What should I tell General Kagan, sir?"

"Tell him…Tell him to tell Slippy Toad that his grandson needs help on Katina." Grey nodded at the rightness of it. "That's it."

Dander nodded. "As you wish. You want me to set a course for Katina afterwards?"

"Tell Updraft to plot out a flight plan…but don't engage. Not yet."

"Aye-aye." Dander gave his CO a respectful nod instead of the usual salute, and stepped outside.

Grey lingered in the darkened room, staying silent while his eyes watched the planets dance. An ember of hatred smouldered in his heart when Venom came into view.

"Soon." The old dog promised. He reached for the holographic display's power switch and toggled it off. "Soon."

* * *

_Bridge_

_"I'll make sure the message is passed on." _Admiral Markinson promised.

Dander nodded. "We appreciate it, admiral." The door to the CPC hissed open, and Dander glanced away from the viewscreen as General Grey wandered in. Grey waited outside of the camera's view and motioned for Dander to finish up. "Take care of yourself, Admiral. We'll have the 5th's Arwing and its pilot back to you soon."

_"All right, then. And tell General Grey thanks for me. You all saved our asses today."_

The transmission cut out, and Grey finally marched to the command chair.

"Corporal, you plot a course to Katina yet?"

"Yes sir, just waiting on your say-so to launch." The red bird nodded.

Grey sat down and looked to ROB. "Have we picked up all our Godsight Pods, robot?"

"Affirmative." ROB droned. "Rourke and Captain Hound used the Draw Effect to retrieve the GSPs from their stationary positions; once they were within range, I brought them aboard remotely. Three Godsight Pods were lost in the Primal attack."

Grey looked over his shoulder to the engineering station. A beleaguered looking Wyatt had resumed his post. "Are the Arwings ready for a joint FTL jump?"

"As ready as we'll ever be, general." Wyatt said.

Grey pointed to communications. "Signal the Fleet that we're departing."

Sasha typed in the short message and sent it out. "Done, sir."

"Tell the Arwings to form up and set FTL to linkup." Grey watched the monitors until they were in line again, then signaled Updraft. "Get us out of here, corporal."

The red avian nodded once and activated the FTL drive.

The _Wild Fox_ and its fighters turned to a new heading, shot on ahead, and vanished into subspace.

* * *

It was the beeping that woke her up. The unceasing, rhythmic chirp grated on the eardrums and pushed her out of the peaceful darkness.

_A heartbeat monitor_, some part of her mind muzzily recalled. There was a strange weight across her forehead as well, and her sense of danger kicked in. A shaky cry escaped her lips, and she started to rise up.

A warm hand touched her arm. "It's all right, Terrany. You're okay. You're safe." It was Dana speaking to her.

Terrany slowly cracked her eyes open, squinting against even the dimmed lights. "Where am I?"

"The Medical Bay on the _Wild Fox._"

The news carried an unspoken note of victory with it. "We won, then." Terrany said, a statement instead of a question.

"Yes. We won." Dana agreed.

"…So how come you're not happy, then?" Her vision cleared enough to see the outline of Dana's face.

"I wasn't able to fly with the rest of you out there today, and you nearly got killed for it." The tigress said reluctantly. "I think I've got a right to be upset."

"Hey, I'm still breathing, aren't I?" Terrany joked. When Dana bit her lip nervously, the humor fell away. "What's wrong?"

"We weren't sure if you would wake up again, Terrany. It took KIT everything he had just to bring you back on board the ship."

Terrany sat up; her muscles were stiff, her skull was still throbbing, but none of that mattered. She reached to her earpiece to talk to KIT, but felt nothing save the hole in her earlobe.

"He took it out, Terrany." Dana explained.

Feeling a cold touch trickle down her back, Terrany kept her expression dull. "How long was I out?"

Dana looked down to the floor. "Five hours."

"Creator damn it all." Terrany slumped back against her pillow and exhaled. She brought her hand up and tore the neural monitor off of her head. "What's happened since then?"

"Wyatt got the engines up and running, but the ship's dead, otherwise. We're just about to land for repairs. The general hasn't said if there's any missions coming up yet. Everyone's sort of dazed." Dana patted Terrany's hand. "There's one other thing. You've been grounded. Dr. Bushtail said it was too risky to let you fly with KIT again, even if you did recover quickly."

Terrany let her head roll to the side. "Is there some good news in all of this?"

"Just one thing." Dana said. "We're setting down on Katina."

Terrany looked back up at her wingman. Dana smiled sadly and nodded.

"Yes, Terrany. We're taking you home."

* * *

_Deckmore Air Force Base_

_Western Hemisphere, Sallwey Province_

_Katina_

_6 hours after the Battle of Sector Y_

"Rrroger that, _Wild Fox._ We have you on radar. You are cleared for re-entry and landing on Pad 18, over." The air tower controller lifted his mug of coffee back up and took another sip, wincing as he did. It had cooled off on him too quickly. The pelican scowled and set it aside.

It was relatively quiet at Deckmore, or at least it had been until the _Wild Fox_ suddenly appeared in the airspace above Katina, requesting clearance to land. The planet's assets had all flown off to Sector Y for some big reorganization, including the local Arwing squadron: The 5th.

One of the junior personnel walked up the steps and poked his head into the control tower. "Hey, Ted, is it true?"

"Is what true, Bill?" The senior traffic controller shrugged.

"That Starfox is here? That they're landing?"

Ted had to roll his eyes at the young pup's eager energy. "Yeah, Bill, it's true. I take it you want to sit in for a while?"

"Yeah, could I, boss?"

Ted the pelican picked up his cold mug of coffee. "Get me a refill and you're solid, boy."

The spotted brown and white mutt raced to finish the task, and kept gibbering as he did so. "Boy oh boy. You know, they say that their ship's the best ship in the fleet!"

"Do they now." Ted fought the urge to roll his eyes a second time by counting fish in his head. "I didn't know that."

"Oh, yeah boss!" Bill went on. He handed over the refreshed mug of coffee, still grinning from ear to ear. "Before the radio blackouts on its position, I heard that they attacked _Venom_ with it, and that it fought off three Primal cruisers to a draw! Just think of how powerful it is! I'll bet there isn't a thing in the Universe that could scratch that ship, especially with Starfox flying those newfangled Arwings to protect it!"

_"Deckmore, we've begun our descent. Be advised, you'll want to get fire suppression teams on standby."_

The announcement surprised Ted so much that he dropped his mug of coffee on the carpet. He shakily reached up and touched his headset. "Say again, _Wild Fox._ What is your status?"

_"…Deckmore, we're declaring an emergency, over."_

"Shit." Ted hissed, wincing when he realized he was still on the air. "Uh, roger that, _Wild Fox._ We'll be ready for you down here. ETA is four minutes."

_"Make it five, we're going slow."_

With practiced movements he had thought he wouldn't need to perform this day, the air traffic controller diverted other inbound flights, alerted the emergency teams on base, and made a note of the emergency declaration in his log.

Bill took a seat nearby and watched his superior at work, his once wagging tail going still. "An emergency? What could have happened to them, boss?"

"My guess is that the Primals finally did something." Ted coughed, looking at the clock. Ten seconds later, the _Wild Fox_ finally emerged from radio blackout.

_"Wild Fox_, we've cleared a hole for you. Land at your discretion, over."

_"Roger that, Deckmore. We'll see you on the ground."_

Bill and Ted walked over to the large plexiglass windows of the control tower and stared up, craning their necks for a look at the sky, and on a tiny dot of light that was coming down and growing larger by the second.

The _Wild Fox_ tilted unevenly as it slowed its descent, and for a moment it seemed as though the landing struts hadn't extended out. By the time they did, the pelican and the mutt were looking at a different part of the ship, horrified at the sight.

A gaping wound, charred and melted from some horrific attack, lingered along the back of its main fuselage. One entire wing of the two pair setup was burned away, with only a cauterized stump where it had once stood. Residual heatflashes streaked away from the festering sore, bleedover from whatever had mortally wounded the grand bird.

"Oh no." Bill whispered, shaking his head. "Creator, no, no, no."

Ted winced and kept the cutting remark to himself, staying professional as the ship set down and the fire trucks and foam tankers raced towards it. If he would have dared to say it out loud, he would have broken down as well, for the sight robbed him of all his stubborn resolve.

The _Wild Fox_ was no longer invincible.


	20. Unscheduled Maintenance

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY: UNSCHEDULED MAINTENANCE

**The Cornerian Military Expansion-** Shortly after the defeat of the Aparoids, a battered Corneria rebuilt its industrial complex and took on the role as the dominant power within Lylat. Tired of always having to rely upon the heroic Starfox team, which had been a mercenary fighter squadron through the Lylat Wars and beyond, the Cornerian Air Force consolidated with the other major military groups to form the SDF: Space Defense Forces. This unified force took a more aggressive stance to action, and over the decades that followed, steadily brought all other planets to heel behind the will of Corneria's hierarchy.

**(From personal vidmail correspondence; General Hare to Slippy Toad)**

"_**Slip, I'm…I'm done with this. I'm retiring and leaving this Godforsaken mess. You tell Fox to fly clear of the SDF and find someplace quiet to live. We saved Corneria and the Lylat System from a tyrant and more…now they've become the thing we fought against. And I don't know how to make it right."**_

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Sallwey Province, Katina_

_9__th__ Day of the Primal War_

_Morning_

The _Wild Fox _had been cordoned off as soon as the emergency crews determined it wasn't going to explode. All base personnel not involved with the repairs were restricted by a cordon 200 meters out from the ship, patrolled by MPs.

The scattered crowds of Katinan civilians could only see the damaged ship behind the main security fence. The news media were kept at the same distance.

* * *

Down in the launch bay, a Model K Arwing was lowered to the ready position by maglift. It carried the proud markings of Typhoon Squadron, a burnt amber swirl taken from Katina's weather patterns.

The pilot, Charlie West, double-checked his gauges one last time. "Damn if she isn't good as new." He said over the radio. "Tell your boss thanks for me!"

_"You want to thank him, don't fly it back busted later today."_ Ulie Darkpaw harrumphed. _"You've been given clearance to depart from Deckmore Flight Control. You kick some ass out there."_

"Roger that. Typhoon 3, launch." He pushed his boosters up and flipped off the magnetic docking clamp. A shudder rattled the airframe, and then he screamed down the launch tunnel and into the low-ground airspace of Deckmore. Charlie quickly angled his nose up and rocketed towards the upper atmosphere. Contrails of air washed out behind his wings, growing thinner the higher he went.

His radar beeped at him as he cleared 30,000 meters, signaling an inbound bogey. He glanced down. Not one bogey; two of them.

He toggled the zoom to bring the two vessels into focus: They both carried an IF/F tag as friendlies, and their cross-section was enormous.

"Holy…" Charlie clicked his radio twice as he vectored towards them. "Inbound friendlies, this is Typhoon 3. Identify yourselves, over."

_"Typhoon 3, this is Albatross 704 and 705, over. We are enroute to Deckmore to deliver supplies."_

The short message left out any keywords that Primal listening posts would have been searching for, but Charlie understood it as clear as day. The Albatross transport cruisers were the largest supply ships in the SDF Fleet, and were routinely dispatched to deliver materials too large for other vessels. They were big, they were slow, but when you needed to move a lot of product in one go, they were supreme.

Their destination, and that there were two of them instead of one, implied they had come for the _Wild Fox_. Charlie flew up and veered two kilometers clear of the humongous, ovoid ships, doing an aileron roll in salute. "Roger that. They'll appreciate the help. Typhoon 3, signing off."

Before he had cleared the atmosphere and sunk from deep blue to pure black skies, he was setting his FTL coordinates. As soon as he saw stars, he jumped.

Off to unfriendly skies.

* * *

Inside the cockpit of Albatross Flight 704, the pilot checked his gauges one more time. "Should be an easy landing."

"So they tell me." His copilot, a brown setter canine, murmured.

"That's right…you've never been to Katina before, have you?" The veteran feline cargo flyer smiled. "Well, don't worry. I'll give you a nice ride. I sort of have to, considering."

"What, the payload or the passengers?"

"The passengers." The pilot tapped his headset and reached for a lever. "Deckmore, Flight 704 on final approach."

_"Roger, Flight 704. You have clearance to land. Taxi to Runway 3 after touchdown and await further instructions."_

"Lowering landing gear." The black tomcat announced casually. He pulled the lever down, and waited until the LED light in the handle flashed green fifteen seconds later to speak up again. "Landing gear is good. Deploy flaps."

"Deploying flaps." His canid co-pilot confirmed, carrying out the order. The ship rumbled under the sudden deceleration, and the two both had to hold onto their steering yokes to keep the plane steady.

Flying an Albatross super-cargo carrier was different than piloting any other ship in the SDF fleet. Sacrificing aerodynamics for storage space, and with stubby wings its only means of stabilization, you didn't so much land an Albatross as you controlled the drop. The flyers of the Albatross fleet considered themselves an elite corps. Once, an Arwing pilot had made the joke that they weren't real pilots.

All it took was one harried landing and the cocky fighter jock never said a disparaging word about them again.

The tires of the landing gear squealed as Flight 704's back wheels connected with terra firma. There was one last moment of tension as the nose came down and the forward gear hit the runway, held in and released.

"Touchdown." The pilot said over the radio. "Braking."

"Applying brakes."

The Albatross went from a lumbering rush to a more acceptable crawl, and turned towards Runway 3. Both of the pilots couldn't help but look towards the ship that dwarfed Katina's primary airbase in the western hemisphere, and the cause of their presence.

"Wonder what it'd be like to fly that thing." The co-pilot mused loudly.

"Before they lost that wing, or after?" The lead pilot countered icily. "Count your blessings you fly the 'Tross. I don't envy those Starfox guys a lick."

The tapping of a wooden cane against the doorframe of the cockpit drew their attention backwards, and the pilot nearly winced to see the stately Slippy Toad standing there.

"It's a different kind of flying, is all. Risk comes with the job." Slippy reminded them. He craned his bulbous head forward and peered towards the _Wild Fox._ The wizened engineer flinched at the damage. "Oh, lord. If he had any hair, he would've torn it all out by now."

"Who are you talking about, sir?" The co-pilot asked, sheepishly trying to recover from his superior's earlier faux pas.

Slippy let out a croak. "I'm not in the military, so don't call me sir. And I'm talking about my grandson."

"Isn't he just an engineer, si…errh, Mr. Toad? It's not like he was flying the ship when it got attacked." Slippy's cane came down on the dog's head, earning a yelp of pain in response. "Geez! What was that for?"

"Do you think it matters to a ship's engineer who did the damn flying? An engineer works on a ship, fixes it up, maintains it. The pilot may fly it, but it's the engineer who thinks of a ship as his baby." Slippy pulled his cane down and hobbled back towards his seat. "In Wyatt's eyes, that huge scar is his fault."

The tomcat looked to the younger pup rubbing at his sore head and shrugged.

"You could have said something there." The co-pilot grumbled.

"Oh, you did enough barking for the both of us."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Launch Bay_

When the ship was grounded, the Launch Bay nearly touched the ground, with only a quarter of a meter separating the duracrete of the base's landing pad from the ship's reinforced hull. Wyatt Toad almost hopped down instead of the more reserved step he took to leave the ship. An envoy of Arspace workers and engineers were pouring out of the massive Albatross freighters, hauling wiring, hoversleds of equipment boxes, and what looked like care packages.

Wyatt wiped his webbed hands on the front of his coveralls. He strode through the sea of manpower and materials, a tired and thirsty tadpole just bestowed with an oasis. His eyes glanced over the prizes with only minor interest, reserving his stare for the one person who could make everything right again.

He finally zeroed in on his person of interest, who was toddling slowly, but steadily, towards him. Slippy Toad, leaning on his cane for support, was escorted by a harried looking female hybrid canine and one young pup clinging to her side.

Wyatt smiled and closed the gap, hugging his grandfather tightly. "Welcome to Katina, grandpa."

"Good to be here again, Wyatt. Regardless of the reason." Slippy patted his heir on the back and pulled away. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought some help with me."

"Yeah, I'll say you did." Wyatt looked around, noticing the sheer numbers again. "Good grief. Looks like you brought the whole damn company."

"Close." Slippy said bemusedly. "I got all the ship techs together and asked for volunteers. You can guess how many did."

"Well, we could use the help." Wyatt explained. "My team's about ready to drop from exhaustion."

"You don't exactly look too green yourself, Wyatt." Slippy pointed out. He blinked, then snapped his fingers. "But, I brought something that should help. Evelyn?"

The middle-aged mother reached for her satchel, interrupted by an insistent tugging on her skirt.

"In a minute, Tony." She growled warningly, ignoring her son's whines. She pulled a small box out and handed it over to Wyatt. "Here you are, Mr. Toad."

Wyatt brightened up at the sight of the box's logo. "Oh ho ho…Gramps, you didn't."

"I thought about bringing you a prostitute, but she wouldn't have fit in the overhead storage bay." Slippy joked. "So, you'll have to settle for some regular candy."

"Chocolate covered fly clusters." Wyatt licked his lips. "My drug of choice."

"If it's all right, sir, I'd like to excuse myself." Evelyn said dryly. "This conversation of yours isn't for children's ears."

"Eh? Oh, right, right." Slippy waved her off. "I'll see you at the hotel. Try and get some relaxation time, Miss Cloudrunner."

"There's not much chance of that." Evelyn complained, dragging her offspring away. "Would you be quiet? I swear, it's like you had a whole box of gumdrops!"

Wyatt slurped down his first candied fly cluster and gave his grandfather a look. "You fed him sweets on the ride, didn't you?"

"Well, I had to do something to make him leave me alone." Slippy said innocently. "But enough about that. Let's talk about what all needs to happen."

"We've got a wing to replace, our shield emitters are fried on almost every deck, most of the ship's wiring is slagged…"

"In other words, there's more wrong with the ship than good." Slippy cut his nephew off. "Don't worry. I made the wiring on the _Wild Fox_ easy to get to for a reason. And as long as we're digging into the guts, I thought we could do some retrofitting and rearming."

"Hey, if you say so. But you sure you'll be okay? You retired from active engineering for a reason, gramps."

"Right now, you, Ulie and your boys are running so low on sleep I'll probably move faster than you."

Wyatt paused when a larger than normal cargo box rolled by. The side of it was open, and he gaped at the object inside. "What the…" He looked to Slippy. "Gramps, am I dreaming? You pulled _that thing_ out of mothballs? That's obsolete tech!"

"Ye of little faith." Slippy patted his grandson on the shoulder and hobbled on ahead. "We're about to gut the _Wild Fox_ and bring it up to spec. You think I wouldn't have done the same with this one already?"

"…Yeah, I suppose, but I don't see why we should waste the hangar space on it." Wyatt said, pulling out another fly cluster. "When are we ever going to need that thing's capabilities?"

"Rule number Six of the Toad family credo, Wyatt." Slippy hummed. "Come prepared."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Command Planning Center_

_9:14 A.M._

The door chimed, pulling Grey's attention away from the holographic image of the Lylat System. The veteran commander shook his head and grunted. "Enter."

The door hissed open, and his Executive Officer, the orange tomcat Thomas Dander, walked in. Dressed sharply in his tan base fatigues, Dander came to a stop with a datapad pressed against his waist. "General."

"Tom." Grey returned the greeting, looking back to the holomap. "What's the latest?"

"Two _Albatross_ carriers are unloading material and personnel from Arspace Dynamics…Slippy Toad came with them, sir."

"Hmm." Grey blinked and touched a button on his remote, zooming in on one of the planets- Katina itself, Dander read when the name popped up. "Can't blame the man for wanting to fix up his own pride and joy. Wyatt's probably hopping for the extra help. I won't bother them with a meeting, but forward a request to Wyatt's inbox. I'll want a status report and timeline for the repairs."

"As ordered." Dander made a note of it on his datapad's log, then stroked at his whiskers. "What's the latest from SDF Command?"

"I burned out another Omega Black receiver crystal, but the compressed databurst was worth it." Grey pulled back from Katina and put up an overlay against the Lylat System. Venom and the known occupied planets in red, Corneria, Katina, and Fichina in blue, and the rest as green. "What was left of the Armada tucked tail and ran back the way they came. Satellites picked them up regrouping near Macbeth, but only briefly. Kagan figures they were shifted to shore up other units at various points of interest. After relaying our message to SDF Command via optical frequency at Corneria, the 4th Fleet's moved on to the attack. So far, we haven't been given any new marching orders."

"I see. Any word of Primal retribution?"

"You mean, are they coming for us?" Grey clarified humorlessly. The old hound shrugged. "The boys here at Deckmore have done what they can to keep things hushed up, but the fact is that we can't monitor every transmission through the normal subspace communication channels. If they haven't gotten wind of our location yet, they will soon. The survivors of Sector Y know that we were badly damaged. Our best hope is to get this ship patched up and flying again as soon as possible. I don't want them shooting at us when we're sitting on the pond."

"Outside of the engineering crews, sir, I've had some requests for time off from other personnel." Dander went on to his next bullet point. "With your permission, I thought we might as well take advantage of the downtime to schedule some day passes."

Grey paused the holomap's rotation and frowned to his second in command. "Are Wyatt and his boys getting a break? Even with Slippy bringing all the help he could, it's our Toad that's going to be running point. I have trouble excusing others when our engineering department's still trying to pick up the pieces."

Dander nodded. "I anticipated that, General. In exchange for remaining on duty for extended repairs, I thought we could set up some better accommodations for the mechanics."

"What'd you have in mind, Dander?"

"Catered meals brought in from civilian restaurants, some recently uploaded holovids, therapeutic massage stations. That sort of thing."

"…You can get all that?"

"The city of Farrandal's only thirty minutes by hovercar from here. I accessed the local net, and they offer all those services…also, all of them are willing to come out to Deckmore. There's a lot of goodwill towards the military, it seems."

Grey's eyes betrayed his mirth. "Put it on Ursa Station's expense account. We still have some credits left in there, right?"

"Oh, you could say that, sir." Dander chuckled. "I'll take care of it. So, do I have the go-ahead to hand out some passes to the rest of the crew then?"

"Provided we can maintain a full bridge crew in rotation, yes." Grey tightened his cap. "Get one for yourself as well."

"Will you be going off-base, General?"

"No, I'll be staying here."

"Then I will as well."

"Tom, you need a break as bad as I do." Grey argued.

"General, my girlfriend is one of the masseuses who works at the massage center I contacted." Dander elaborated. "Trust me. I'll be fine once she gets here."

Grey let out a short, laughing snort. "I guess you will be. Anything else to report, Executive Officer Dander?"

Dander came to attention. "No, sir, General."

"Dismissed then."

* * *

_The Hall of Antiquity_

_Venom_

Saber, Nome, and Flint all kept close by their captain. Phoenix Flight was operating together with more conviction and strength than they had ever possessed as Tinder Squadron. Their new Phoenix fighters, a combination of modern Primal tech and that taken from their ancestors, had a lot to do with it, but that was not the only change.

Any Primal would immediately argue that the fire within surpassed all other needs of importance. That was true for them especially.

They were the Primal's secret weapon in the now prolonged struggle against Starfox and the accursed Arwings.

"You sure you're all right, captain?" Saber asked his flight lead. Captain Telemos remained stone-faced, ignoring the hasty salutes given up by other members of the Primal military as they marched down the hallways of their ancient home. "You weren't looking so well when we reported to medical."

"The physicians gave me a clean bill of health, Lashal, same as the rest of you." Telemos reassured Phoenix 2. "If I seem preoccupied, it's more to do with this briefing. I haven't told you yet, but we won't be the only pilots present."

"Really?" Vodari, Phoenix 4 exclaimed. "Who else?"

Telemos stopped in front of the door to their conference room, looked to his three wingmen, then pushed the heavy portal open. A wash of noise blasted out at them, and they hesitated before stepping inside to investigate.

There were more than twenty other Primals inside; pilots, all of them, by their uniforms. Nome swallowed loudly. "Oh, geez. This is everyone."

However it was with the Cornerian pilots, the fighter jocks of the Primal military knew each other quite well…At least, the elite squadrons. Nome did a silent count in his head and shook it in disbelief. "Captain, tell me I'm not dreaming."

"You're not." Telemos replied calmly. A few pilots in the congregation looked up to the newcomers and fell silent, then through hushes and nudges, soon had the rest of the room staring at Phoenix Squadron.

Few of those stares were sympathetic. After all, even though it was known that they were Phoenix Squadron, the spear that the Tribunes had chosen to eliminate Starfox, there was no shaking the shame of their defeat as Tinder Squadron, and the loss of the Satellite Control Center.

One of the Primals, an Elite by virtue of his hairless face and pale white skin, stood up and pointed at Telemos with a sneer. "Exile. You do not deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us."

Telemos bit back his first angry retort and mustered a grim smile. "Captain Simios Hachsturm. I haven't seen you since Tinder Squadron bested your Meteors in the Chev System." The not so hidden dig made the Elite Primal scowl with rage, and the room almost erupted into violence then and there.

Only a very loud, and attention demanding smash of a metal rod against the far wall kept the hotblooded fighter pilots from setting into each other. Everyone turned and immediately straightened up. The glowering, majestic face of their most famous pilot, now consigned to training and squadron oversight, commanded immense respect.

"Sit down. All of you." The grizzled Primal growled. Not an Elite, he wore his fur proudly, with two well groomed tufts of white beard coming off of his cheeks. "As you're about to learn, you all have bigger problems than each other."

Telemos guided his squadron to the back row of unoccupied seats in the conference room, his mind already swirling with the one thing that would make the legendary Valmoor Gatlus so on edge.

Starfox.

The receded dome light in the ceiling dimmed, and a very old fashioned projector brought up a flatscreen image on the wall behind Grandflight Gatlus. Venom spun in the middle, looming and large, with a substantial portion of the Primal Fleet amassed around it.

"If you haven't been made aware yet, a significant section of our warships were dispatched to attack the nebula our enemies call Sector Y, where we knew that the remnants of the Cornerian Fleet were massing. It was the largest push since our Second Wave annihilated their ships over the water world. The Tribunes believed that our forces would have no trouble obliterating them."

Gatlus paused, then brought up a tally of the ships that had formed the attack Armada…

Which transformed into a horribly small number within seconds.

"That is what came back from that fight. All told, the Primal cause was dealt a severe blow. In this one battle, we lost 25 percent of our manned, dedicated fighter assets, 36 percent of our capital ships, and 18 percent of our Splinter Drones."

Only horrified silence met the declaration, and Gatlus twisted the knife in the wound.

"The Cornerians fielded a Fleet barely a quarter of ours in number, but three things stood in their favor. The nebula they had been hiding in, which they set up as our battlefield, had a scrambling effect on our radars from background radiation. Effective range of our capital ships' most devastating weapons was drastically reduced. Second, the same vessel that attacked Venom days ago was present, and it lived up to its fearful reputation. Third…I know what you're all thinking. Starfox was there. They were, but that was not all."

The display changed again, showing the Cornerian formation as it was when the Primal Armada first dropped out of subspace. A horrific number of blue and silver spacefighters stared down the cameras.

"On top of their mothership, Starfox had allies. Fifteen Arwings flew against the Armada. **Fifteen.**" Gatlus spat out the number. "Take it to heart, because that is how many Arwings must be destroyed if we're to have any hope of winning this thing. The Cornerian Fleet ran a defensive formation, and cut their Arwings loose to hunt. Somehow, they were able to coordinate their efforts with unbelievable precision, yet the Armada received no radio transmissions, save only when the Arwings were goading them. We don't know how they pulled off such enmeshed maneuvers, but the fact is, their capital ships weakened the Armada, and then the Arwings, and Starfox itself, finished the job. The Command Cruiser was obliterated midattack; to our knowledge, the only damage the Armada did was to destroy a few capital ships, damage one Arwing, and cripple Starfox's mothership. The ships that remained fled, and rightly so, despite what the Tribunes scream about honor and cowardice."

Gatlus paused the projector and rubbed at his eyes. "This tragedy has weakened our forces to the point that all forward momentum is ceased. Though our engineers continue to excavate the world-killer from its long sleep, it will not be ready for some time yet. For the moment, Corneria and the few worlds that they have managed to cling to remain intact. Naturally, the Tribunes are displeased. These animals will use the reprieve to start their own attacks, and they have. Already, we are receiving reports that the Fleet we failed to destroy is skirmishing with our assets in the outer worlds. It is only a matter of time before they move inwards, with their Arwings at the forefront. The only solace we have taken is that Starfox, and their mothership, have not been seen during the fighting. Perhaps the _Indomitable_ managed to do more harm than we thought. The Tribunes are in a panic, and they have turned to us. At long last, they have put aside their pride and accepted what I have been advocating for years…We were warned of Starfox, and of the Arwings that flew the skies and space of Lylat. The Tribunes, the Armada, have tried their massive waves. They have thrown ships of the line at these small, graceful deadly dancers and come back bloodied and beaten."

Gatlus jammed a crooked finger up to the massed pilots. "The death of Starfox, and the defeat of the Arwings, must come from us. To stop these fighters, we must meet them with fighters of our own. _Fire with fire._ With the loss of the famed Hydrian Squadron at Sector Y, you seven flights are now the most well-trained, experienced, and capable squadrons left. Our fledgling pilots look up to you."

One by one, Gatlus pointed to the flight leads and sounded their names.

"Helios Squadron. Eclipse Squadron. Ignis Squadron. Sunder Squadron. Meteor Squadron. The Lords Squadron…and Phoenix Squadron. You will train for the great undertaking. As we do not know where the Arwings, or Starfox will strike next, you will be stationed at scattered posts, points of interest where the Tribunes anticipate their arrival. When they come, you will fight them. You will defeat them. You will kill them. Their victories will make them sloppy and careless. In the days to come, you will be trained to your absolute limits in dogfighting. You will become better than you have ever been. You will fly against each other, competitors…but there is no score. There is no personal victory. You will fly, you will fight, and you will _learn_, for that is the _only way_ you will survive your battles with these Arwings!"

Now, the pilots from the various squadrons looked at each other in dawning realization of the momentous task placed upon them. They were being told to throw aside all personal accomplishments and honor, to focus on a singular goal. What was strange to them was that, in spite of all the ingrown attitudes and emotions that came with their prior training and victories…

Gatlus's wild plan not only made sense, but it seemed the only right decision to make.

Gatlus tapped his pointing rod on the floor again and summoned their attention. "As we speak, your Helion fighters are being retrofitted. We were able to capture one of their accursed Arwings in our reclamation…They call it the "Model K", and up until the revelation of their prototype Seraph Arwings, it was top of the line. A thorough study of its systems has given us access to their knowledge of shield mechanics. When our engineers are finished, you will find that your Helions' shields will be able to absorb more punishment…and like the Arwings, will be able to create a temporary deflective field during rolls. It is an edge, but do not rely on it alone. Footage taken from the failed attack at Sector Y has shown us that the Seraph Arwings belonging to Starfox are capable of extreme maneuvers, and even more devastating attack powers. When that report is compiled, I will deliver it to you. For now, the best I can give you is the words and wisdom of the only fighter pilots to fly against Starfox, and come back alive."

The lights came back up, the display faded, and Gatlus steered his pointer to the back of the room.

Telemos felt his throat tighten when the end centered towards his chest. Everyone turned to look at him as he stood and marched to the front of the conference room, leading his men behind him.

Gatlus set a hand on his shoulder when Telemos reached him. "No judgments. No shame." The old man said softly. "Just tell us what you know…so they can stay alive."

"You have the pictures, I hope." Telemos whispered back. "I didn't come prepared to give a lecture."

Gatlus winked at him, then brought the lights back down again. The projector stirred to life, waiting for Gatlus's cue.

Gatlus waited for the prompt from the flight lead of Phoenix Squadron.

Telemos looked around the room. All of the pilots there were once his rivals, some of them bitter ones. Now, the threat of the Arwings had forged them into something more.

The Primals' last shining hope.

"Before we talk about the planes, we must talk about their pilots." Telemos began, slowly at first, but picking up force as his resolve and bitterness kicked in. "And there is one pilot in particular whose name I want you to memorize."

Gatlus switched the image to show one of the camera shots taken over Venom. The picture, snapped from an onboard sensor on a Burnout fighter in a spiraling dive, brought a hot wave of rage up inside of Telemos's heart.

Everyone else saw the pale white vixen flying in her Seraph for the first time; a potent image of a warrior without fear, a valkyrie in her element.

The disgraced, reborn Primal spoke her name, and still shook from the power of it.

"The Pale Demon. Terrany. McCloud."

* * *

_Medical Bay_

"Terrany?" Dr. Bushtail looked up from a report he was working on and blinked a few times at Rourke's question. "No, I'm sorry, lieutenant. I haven't seen her since I discharged her yesterday." The simian folded his hands together. "If she's like most pilots I know, though, she's sulking somewhere. You flyers hate being grounded for any reason, much less a medical one."

Rourke nodded halfheartedly. "If you let her go, though, she must have been doing better."

"Yes, more or less." Bushtail got up from behind his desk and took a stroll around his room. Even after the engineers had been working nearly nonstop on the _Wild Fox_, the medical facilities had limited power. The lights flickered occasionally. "Physically, she recovered within a short span. As near as I've been able to piece together, her unparalleled ability to maintain a high percentage of Synch while in Merge Mode has a direct correlation with her blackouts. The more she sustains Merge Mode, the higher her synch ratio is, the more damage she's doing to her cerebral hemispheres."

"You saying she burns herself out?" Rourke tried to summarize.

"When you de-Merge, your brain activity phases to normal running. All the strain you took on has to flash off…like catching your breath after a long run, when your lungs are burning." Bushtail was tired, but kept it together. "For her, the effects are worse. Even when she and KIT weren't Merged, their synch was high enough that there were side effects. Those, I'm still struggling to explain."

"And it's too dangerous for her to get back in the air. Even if she's…"

Bushtail silenced Rourke with a look. "I'm going to tell you this, only because as her flight lead, you're tasked with her safety. She is _not_ getting back in that Arwing. The next time, she might not wake up, and I won't have that on my conscience. Or yours."

Rourke crossed his arms. "What if we let her fly a Model K? Would that be all right?"

Bushtail laughed at the notion. "You must think I've never treated pilots before. Do you think after flying in a Seraph, she'll settle for a Model K? Would _you_?"

With some reluctance, Rourke shook his head no.

Bushtail sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. It's not permanent, all right? Tell her that, so she doesn't go spiraling off thinking it's the end of the world. I just want to figure this out first. And I will. She just has to give me some time."

"And you expect me to tell her that, knowing she'll probably decide to kick me in the groin again?"

"Hey, nobody ever said pilots didn't take risks." Bushtail reminded him. "After all, Milo's the only pilot in this squadron who hasn't come back from a fight with his plane missing pieces or bashed to Hell."

"Milo has patience." Rourke rubbed his chin. "Dana's used to pushing the envelope, and Terrany's…"  
Bushtail waited patiently for Rourke to finish the thought, but the gray wolf shook his head and left.

The monkey walked back to his desk and sat down, bringing his diagrams back up again.

"She's one of a kind." The doctor finished, searching all his data for the clue to her troubles.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Krystal McCloud Memorial Garden_

Terrany had chosen to rename the arboretum inside of the _Wild Fox_ for her grandmother. Given how she had inherited the ship, and was its rightful owner, nobody could have argued the point, and nobody wanted to. Krystal McCloud was buried in the garden, her tombstone a solemn slab of stone surrounded by flowers taken from many worlds.

The pale white vixen pulled her old tan academy flight jacket tighter over her shoulders and shrank back against one of the trees close beside it. She reached up to touch the two-way transceiver earring in her earlobe, then winced and pulled her hand down as she recalled that Dr. Bushtail had confiscated the device. The medical staff had even posted guards around her Seraph, preventing her from so much as walking up to her aircraft.

Or talking to KIT.

The nearby lift doors opened up, and Milo, the team's raccoon sharpshooter and voice of reason, strolled into the Memorial Garden. He glanced around until he caught sight of her distinctive fur against the greenery, then waved. Terrany nodded back at him and did her best to seem unapproachable.

That didn't stop Milo from strolling over like she'd shouted an invitation.

"The lieutenant's been looking for you." He said.

Terrany pulled her knees up against her chest and shook her head. "I'm grounded, remember? We've got nothing to talk about."

"Grounded, sure, but not off duty." Milo reminded her. The raccoon squinted. "Well, that's not entirely true. Scuttlebutt is that General Grey's giving us some time off."

"With the ship pretty much trashed, he's just keeping us out of his hair." Terrany said dismissively. "Don't read too much charity into it."

"Well, aren't we just a little sourball today." Milo chuckled. "Why are you sitting in here, anyhow?" He looked up to the ceiling, and the artificial lights that dotted the surface. "You can't even see the sun. No windows."

"Yes, and would you really want a transparisteel weak spot in the middle of the ship instead of armor plating?" Terrany retorted. She gestured to the gravestone. "I come here for her."

"Aah. Your grandmother." Milo set his hands into his pockets. "You talk to her?"

"Not really." Terrany flicked one of her ears. "I think about her a lot. I didn't know her all that well. The last time I saw her was at dad's funeral, and she looked old and worn out." She smiled. "You know, I'm supposed to look like her?"

"Yeah?" Milo rubbed his chin. "Your fur's white, and hers was blue though."

Terrany's arm snapped out quickly and punched him in the side of the leg before he could dodge. "You know what I mean."

"Eeeeh. I _feel_ what you mean, anyways." Milo rubbed at the sore spot. He paused and noticed how she still kept her eyes glued elsewhere, only watching him from the corner of her eye. "You remember when you and I first met?"

"That was less than a month ago." The vixen finally pulled herself away from the tree and stood up. "How could I forget? What about it?"

"Dana and I had a bet at the time whether you would show up." Milo blinked. "She paid me fifty credits after we got back to Ursa."

Terrany finally looked at him. "…You bet that I would come?"

"I had a feeling about you." The ring-tailed raccoon explained. "I knew you were different from your brother. It wasn't just what he'd told us about you before we lost him. I picked up a lot just from studying you. It all confirmed what I've come to believe. You never bet against a McCloud." The raccoon opened his flight suit and pulled out a thick envelope. "Oh, yeah. I also was supposed to give you this." He tossed it over to her, and Terrany opened it to behold a stack of credits bigger than any pile she'd ever seen in her life. "Your wages so far in this war."

"Holy Creator." Terrany pulled out the bills and thumbed through them. "This is…Just…" She sighed and stuffed the money into her Academy flight jacket. "For a while there, I forgot Starfox was a mercenary team. How much did you make?"

"Not as much as you did." Milo Granger said, unruffled by the comparison. "Then again, I'm still regular military, so my pay grade's pretty much set. That, and your kill scores are still better than mine. Like Grey said when he signed the disbursement officer's ledger, _"This is one steep bill…but it's worth it." _He laughed. "What you ought to do is get going while the going's good. Go shopping. Do something to get your mind off of all of this. Skip wouldn't put up with you moping around here."

"Yeah, and who made you the team psychiatrist?"

"Nobody." Granger winked, heading for the door. "I just listen better."

Terrany stood there in the Memorial Garden for a moment, then quickly raced after the raccoon. "Hey."

Milo slowed up and looked back. "Yes?"

Terrany matched his pace. "He's not dead." She stated.

Milo stared at her. "I want to tell myself that too, but he's not coming back, Terrany."

"He's not dead." Terrany repeated, and icy surety filled her eyes. "I just know it."

Milo patted her shoulder and hit the button for the elevator. He stepped onto the lift when the doors opened, and selected his floor without looking at her.

There was something in her gaze that kept him silent.

* * *

_The McCloud Residence_

_Edgewood, Sallwey Province_

Julia Ray McCloud was, by anyone's definition, livid. She had been trying to penetrate the bureaucracy of the nearby air force base for more than forty minutes, and was still being given the runaround.

"If I have to drive over there myself and smash through their security barricade…" The vixen growled into the air. The phone receiver in her hand still blasted out patriotic marching anthems, an effort to please people on hold that only increased her resolve to strangle someone.

A sudden loud click and the cessation of the music made her bolt upright.

_"Yes, hello?"_ A very tired sounding man said.

Mrs. McCloud fumbled with the phone and smashed it to the side of her face. "Who did I get stuck with now? Some ensign again?"

The man coughed, growing more alert. _"No, ma'am. This is Colonel Jack Vallance. Who are you, might I ask?"_

Julia gripped her forehead. "I've already _told_ your people. My name's Julia McCloud, and I've been bounced from one phone to the next and put on hold more times than I'd like! I just want to talk to my daughter, all right?"

_"Julia McClou…As in __**the**__ McClouds?"_

"Yes, colonel!" Julia snapped. "I know my daughter's there. It's been all over the news that the carrier ship of Starfox is docked at your damn base, and I know already that she's on that damn team. So you are going to **connect me**, or so help me I am going to drive over there _right now_ and…"

_"Easy, Mrs. McCloud, easy!" _Colonel Vallance cut in hastily. _"Look, it's no problem, okay? I'll connect you to the _Wild Fox_ myself. You'll be able to get a hold of your daughter no problem after that."_

"You do that, Colonel!" Julia stomped her foot into the kitchen floor. The phone line clicked into hold again, but thankfully, the elevator music didn't start up. Only about fifteen seconds passed before the line was picked up again.

_"This is Brigadier General Arnold Grey, SDF oversight commander of the Starfox team. I understand you wanted to get through to us, Mrs. McCloud?"_

Julia McCloud fell back into one of the dining table chairs and exhaled. "Finally. Yes, general. I want to talk to my daughter. I've wanted to get a hold of her since she disappeared weeks ago, but I've never been able to get a message through."

_"That is a very…worrisome oversight, I'll admit." _Grey said. _"We've had our hands full, though. Terrany's done a lot of good in this war so far, and for Project Seraphim."_

Julia chewed her lip to keep from screaming at him. "Can I talk to her? I know you're on planet. This might be the only chance I'll get to see her again, now that she's…she's flying."

Grey hesitated for a moment before he answered her. _"I'll be sure to pass the message along, but she's gone off base with some of her squadron. That's all I can promise you, ma'am."_

"I don't like it, but I'll have to put up with it. You stole her from me in the first place without asking for permission, why should you act any differently now?" She sighed. "General, just tell me. Has she gotten into any trouble out there?"

He hesitated again, and that was how she knew he was lying.

_"Nothing we couldn't handle. Take care, Mrs. McCloud. I'll tell Terrany you called."_

The phone went dead, and Julia let her phone receiver fall on the kitchen table.

"You bastards." She sobbed.

* * *

_Katina_

_Low Planetary Orbit_

One of the more enjoyable parts of spaceflight was that there was no atmospheric drag on his craft. Of course, Captain Lars Hound of the 21st Squadron was experienced enough to know that it also meant one crack in his canopy and the loss of his atmospheric shielding, a sublayer beneath the main barrier his G-Diffusers produced, would lead to rapid decompression and a very quick end.

He and his men were maintaining an orbital velocity of 14,000 kph, keeping pace above the western hemisphere of Katina. A beep caught his eye, and the HUD displayed an incoming call.

Hound glanced over a readout below the attention grabbing chime. **Godsight Pod optical interlink operational.** He nodded and toggled the receive button on the side of his helmet. "Go for talk."

"Captain, I'm not usually one to complain, but this is a little tedious." Damer, his squirrel tactical officer, said. "We weren't ordered up here. Why are we doing this?"

"Well, let's review." Hound grunted. "The _Wild Fox_ is grounded for repairs, that McCloud girl is off flight duty, and we're still operational. It's not a matter of if the Primals find out that Starfox is feet wet, but _when._ And as long as we're here, it's our job to make sure that Katina's got some defenses ready to jump on whatever they throw at us." He frowned at his cockpit camera. "If we're lucky, things will stay boring, Damer."

"Aye-aye, sir." Damer answered glumly.

"What I don't get is why I couldn't fly one of their Seraphs again." Wallaby Preen cut in. "I mean, I was making some real dents in that last battle!"

"What's the matter, Preen, you forget how to fly a Model K?" Hound teased him. "You've got to keep your skills sharp, son. Don't forget, you were just borrowing Miss Tiger's plane. When they're ready to fly again, you'll have to settle for the beauty you're sitting in right now. Chances are good they won't have a Seraph ready for you for a good long while yet, not with all the repairs the big ship needs."

"Aw, nuts." Wallaby sighed. "I guess, cap'n. Still, couldn't we do something to pass the time?"

"Sure." Hound quipped. "Watch your radars and keep the comm lines open. I don't want you gossiping when you should be doing your job."

"There's our fearless leader." Damer laughed. "Speaking of contacts, I've got an object 240 kilometers out, bearing 330 high. No IF/F signal, cross-section could indicate a ship."

Hound pushed the throttle on his engines up, burning more synthesized hydrogen to increase his speed. "Damer, take the lead. Let's investigate, boys."

"Roger that."

"I'm on your six, cap'n."

* * *

_10 kilometers west of Deckmore AFB_

_Interprovince Highway 75, enroute to Farrandal_

_Sallwey Province_

Though the Interprovince was well maintained, the designers had accounted for specific speed limits in their figures. Amid loud shrieking, the hovercar that they had rented came back down to the pavement after flying off the crest of a hill at 30 kph faster than the speed limit.

Rourke felt his teeth chatter when the repulsors compensated for the sudden reappearance of the ground, bumping the car and its occupants up off of their seats. He was grateful that they'd worn their seatbelts, considering. "I'm not sure if it was such a brilliant idea, letting Dana do the driving!" He called out, straining to be heard from the backseat.

Terrany, who was riding front seat passenger, turned her snout back around the headrest and grinned at him. "What's wrong, Rourke? You telling me with all the extreme maneuvers you do in an Arwing, a bumpy ride is making you panic?"

"When I'm flying in an Arwing doing those stunts, I'm in control!" Rourke snapped back, instinctively throwing a hand up in front of his face as they screamed towards the rear end of another car.

Dana veered around them at the last possible moment, laying into the horn hard. "Get off the road, you old fart!" She screamed out her window, making Rourke roll his eyes. Dana pulled her head back in and centered the hovercar in the passing lane. "Man, Milo's missing out. We're gonna have ourselves a bucketload of fun today!"

"I offered, but Milo said he had some business to take care of." Rourke shrugged. "Considering he didn't get paid as much as the rest of us, he might just be steering clear."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do with your wages?" Dana asked loudly. "You gonna buy a few things for your room?"

Rourke grunted. "Got no reason for knickknacks." He frowned at Terrany. "And you should be saving your money."

"Why?" Terrany blinked, caught off guard.

"Slippy's having Arspace cover this first repair; I overheard him say something about a tax writeoff. Doesn't mean you won't have to foot the bill later down the line."

"…Oh." Terrany's ears fell. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You've never flown in a mercenary squadron before." Rourke consoled her. "It's something your grandfather had to worry about, same as mine. Tell you what. Just get yourself a little thing, save the rest. You start building up a nest egg, you'll be ready when your ship's really in the lurch."

"And with any luck, we'll keep the Primals from shooting at it next time." Terrany sighed. "Well, that puts a kink into things."

Rourke's communicator went off, and the flight lead of Starfox sighed. "Speaking of kinks…" He pulled it out of the pocket of his black leather jacket and thumbed it on, putting it against his ear. "O'Donnell here."

_"General Grey here, Rourke. I apologize for the interruption, I know you and the girls weren't expecting one."_

"Did the Primals find us, general?"

_"No, but someone else did. Can Terrany hear me?"_

Rourke motioned for Terrany to activate the hovercar's wireless linkup. The albino vixen did as she was told, and the car chimed happily as it connected to the device. "Now she can, general." Rourke spoke up. "Go ahead."

_"Terrany, I just got a very interesting phone call. It seems your mother found out where we were stationed."_

"Oh, great." Terrany flinched. "Geez, I haven't even put together a decent letter in a while. She's probably clawing at the walls."

_"She sounded a little stressed. Do me a favor, call her and let her know you're all right."_

Dana grunted unhappily, and Terrany had a similar reaction. "Not to put a too fine point on it, sir, but I'm _not_ fine. You grounded me, remember?"

_"No, Dr. Bushtail grounded you. For your own damn good, by the way. I'll leave it up to you to decide how much to tell your mother, just do me a favor. Whatever you tell her, make sure it includes, __**"And don't tear my commanding officer's head off, or he'll have my ass."**__ Got it?"_

Terrany blinked. "You telling me she scared you?"

_"Me, no, but she almost gave the base CO a new one. I've lived long enough to learn a valuable lesson about military leadership, McCloud. Mothers are the most dangerous thing you'll ever go up against."_

The communicator clicked off, and Rourke tucked the device back into his jacket.

"Well, that was something." The gray wolf ventured tentatively.

Terrany leaned back into the passenger seat and looked out her window.

"Hey, Terrany, you going to be all right?" Dana asked.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." Terrany nodded. "But I do feel kind of guilty. I didn't leave her any warning when you and Milo convinced me to join Project Seraphim. I just packed up and went. She found out after the fact. Somehow, I don't think she'll be happy with a phone call after that."

"Well, where does she live?" Rourke said. Terrany glanced backwards, and Rourke shrugged. "She misses you, right? Long as you're here, you may as well go see her."

"Edgewood. It's a suburb ten minutes outside of Farrandal, close to the Pheran Desert's edge."

"And suddenly, the name makes sense." Rourke mused.

"Knock it off, Rourke." Dana belittled her commander. "Tell you what, Terrany. We'll come with you."

"We'll _what?"_ Rourke reacted. Dana shot him an angry look in the rearview mirror, and the wolf winced. "I mean…well, long as we're in the neighborhood." He looked down and muttered a swear under his breath. "Sure we're not going to be imposing?"

"No, not at all." Terrany answered easily. She smiled and tapped her window. "Mom likes having company over."

* * *

_Space Defense Forces CSC_

_Tactical Analysis and Command (TAC)_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

"You know, it's been a while since I looked at a map of the Lylat System." General Winthrop Kagan drummed his claws on the sleeve of his uniform, marveling at the flatscreen image of the binary star system that he and every other animal called home. "If you don't give it some time, you can almost forget how extraordinary our part of the galaxy is."

"Yes, general." One of the young pups in the TAC room agreed. "I just wish we had a better picture of it."

Kagan hmmed and brought up an overlay of all the SDF satellite relays throughout Lylat. Some were still there, but many, especially around planets of interest and within close observation range, were no longer there. "We all do. All right, show me where the 4th Fleet is."

The map zoomed in above a desolate, gray world near the outer fringe of the habitable zone. "The last report we received from Admiral Markinson said that they had engaged a flotilla around the ruined world of Cerinia."

"Cerinia?" Kagan raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing there, hasn't been for almost a century now. Whole damn planet got wiped out by a meteorite before the Lylat Wars. How many ships?"

"Two cruisers, a medium-range destroyer. Ahh…Two Ardents and an Ignan, by their names."

"Probably a scouting patrol." Kagan folded his arms. "The Primals looking for other worlds to set down roots. Cerinia was a bad draw for them. Zoom out for a bit, and give me current orbital positions."

The map altered itself to match Kagan's order, and the lynx flexed his jaw. "Well, from there, they'd have a clear run at Papetoon…but Darussia's in their operational range as well."

The leader of the CSC hrrmed again. "If I were Markinson...I'd head for Darussia."

"Why Darussia, general?" His subordinate liaison officer asked.

"It puts him closer to the inner worlds than Papetoon would…and more importantly, Darussia has a few significant caches of reactor fuel and ordnance he'll want to resupply." He made a face. "Only problem is, the Primals probably know that too. Darussia's one of the worlds we earmarked as occupied."

He whirled back to the tech he'd spoken with earlier. "Do we have any eyes on Darussia yet?"

"Uhh…No, sir, I'm afraid we don't." The young dog said nervously. "Our spy satellites in that region were all taken out. I could try for a long-range glance with one of our telescopic satellites, if you'd like?"

"…It'll take us hours to develop the resolution we'll need for that far out." Kagan sighed. "Go ahead and get started. If my gut's right, and it usually is, Markinson's going to be flying into a real mess."

"He's got some ground units with him, at least?" Kagan's liaison officer prodded.

"Yeah, I tossed him two Azimuth dropships with a good portion of the reactivated reserves we had on hand." Kagan bit his lip. "General Grey told me that his boys would be out of the fight until tomorrow at the earliest. If Markinson gets into trouble, he's going to have to fight his way out of it himself."

* * *

_2 Hours East of Deckmore AFB_

_Interprovince Highway 75_

_Marker 387_

Though large swaths of Katina had been terraformed successfully over the years, there were portions that stubbornly clung to an arid landscape. As few citizens elected to live in such places, the real estate was comparatively cheap, and thus, perfect for a select group of developers.

Along a lonely stretch of Highway 75, in the opposite direction of where Rourke and the rest of the Starfox team had driven off to, Sergeant Milo Granger slowed the jeep he'd taken from Deckmore's garage. With no traffic coming up behind him in the blaze of the early afternoon sun, he held in the clutch and let it coast down. Momentum guided him in as he approached a long shack beside the road, with a few other cars and motorcycles parked around it.

He checked the obscenely small sign standing beside the establishment and gave a single nod of his head, confirming that the place hadn't changed hands.

Gravel crunched underneath his tires as the jeep pulled into the makeshift parking lot. He slipped it into neutral, stopped its roll at the far end of a line of cars, and set the parking brake before killing the engine.

Milo stepped out of his borrowed ride and pocketed the keys, glancing over the horizon. In the distance, he could make out a long row of hilly bluffs, dotted with green grass and topped by spinning white windmills. "They added some things." He said to himself. That was life for you; endless change, and a constant need to try and master ones' surroundings.

The raccoon sighed and removed his driving sunglasses, slipping them into the front pocket of his Project Seraphim flight jacket. He walked on, intent on the door, and the promise of drinks within _**The Firing Range**_, as the small advertising sign listed the bar's name.

Inside, the music of twangy instruments and a drawling, heavily accented male baritone kept a steady pace of monotony built up. An acrid, smoky atmosphere slapped Milo in the face and lured him in with the same wafting breath. The sound of billiard balls cracking off one another made him glance to the back of the bar, where a worn-looking pool table was in use.

The Firing Range didn't have a lot of fancy gadgets. There wasn't a holoprojector, and the flatscreen behind the main counter was two decades out of date with modern specs. In the place of a bigger television was a pantheon of photographs, both new and old and grainy, tacked on or hung inside wooden frames. Milo walked inside and was instantly transported to a different time, a different period of his life.

Memories that were fragmented on the outside were made whole within the stained walls of the old dive.

He glanced around the room, meeting the scrutinizing stares of the other patrons without fear or hesitation. After three seconds of intentional delay, Milo walked towards the main counter, where a muscular and slightly overweight badger was tending bar, a dishtowel thrown over his left shoulder.

The ring-tailed raccoon, the oldest member of the Starfox team, took a seat on a barstool at the end of the row and nodded to the badger. "Whiskey. Neat. Double."

The badger set down a tumbler and reached under the counter for the requested liquor. Milo dug in his pocket for a bit, and eventually grabbed a hold of a folded up wad of credits. He peeled off a five and a pair of singles and flopped them on the bar, and in seconds, the badger had swiped up the money and replaced it with Milo's drink.

Granger lifted it up, glanced once to the emblem of the Cornerian Army painted on the back wall, then downed half of the alcohol in one long swallow. It burned as it went down, but quenched his thirst.

He savored the lingering tastes on his tongue for a few seconds, and started to raise his glass up to finish the rest when a hand forcefully tapped his shoulder. Milo slowly set his tumbler of whiskey back down on the counter and glanced back. A very disgruntled dog was looking down at him; given the cut of his headfur, he was relatively new to the force.

"Yeah?" Milo asked.

The golden-furred retriever furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

"Getting the dust of the road out of my mouth." Milo replied. "Is that a problem?"

"We don't allow your kind in here."

"…Raccoons?"

"Hell, no." The young dog motioned back to the pool table, where Milo finally picked out a fellow black-eyed mammal in the pack. "We like Horace just fine. It's not your fur. This is an army bar. We don't like flyboys coming in here."

"Really." Milo said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, really." The golden retriever grunted. "So you can either walk out of here, or we'll throw you out."

Milo narrowed his eyes, and carefully chose his next few words. "You ever look at that wall behind the bar?" He glanced there himself, leading his aggressor's stare.

"Yeah, bunch of old pictures." The dog said. "So?"

"There's a rule about this bar." The barkeep spoke up gruffly, with a tone that brooked no argument. "Nobody gets their picture on my wall unless they've by Creator _earned it_."

The young pup blinked. "Yeah…okay."

Milo finished off his drink, and as he was swallowing, pointed to a faded color print in a small oak frame. A host of seasoned, but still young troopers was gathered together in the snapshot, some clutching their weapons, others merely smiling in the downtime. A slimmer version of the badger barkeep was near the front.

The golden retriever's eyes widened when he did a double take, and saw a younger, more cheerful Milo Granger kneeling at the far left of the formation…a sniper rifle held against his leg.

The badger snapped his dishtowel on the counter with a loud crack. "Rule two of my bar, Yates. Anybody who badmouths anyone on my wall doesn't sit right for a week."

"Oh, shit." The pup stammered. "I…I'm sorry, I didn't know. I just saw the jacket, and…"

Milo set the empty glass down and cut off the meandering apology with a wave of his hand. "Good grief, Lowery. You still know how to scare the shit out of the cherries."

The badger tending bar reared his head back and let out a wheezing laugh that Milo soon echoed. The confused pup looked between the two until Milo grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him down to the empty stool beside him. "Ah, sit down. Lowery, why don't you get the two of us another set of double shots. I'm buying."

"Your money's no good here, Granger." Lowery reminded the raccoon. "You know that."

"Then why'd you take the first seven credits?"

"You still owed me that from the last time we played cards." Lowery slammed down another tumbler and poured out two liberal doubles of whiskey. "There you go."

"I'm sorry, sir." The pup said again. "I didn't know."

"Oh, relax already." Milo sighed. "What's your name, son?"

"Private First Class Carbid Yates, sir. Uh, I mean, sergeant."

Milo picked up his glass and took another swallow, on his way to a woozy frame of mind. He looked at the barkeep again. "Greg, what have you been telling these kids about me?"

"Just the truth, Sarge." Greg Lowery explained. "What I'm allowed to say of it, anyways. I didn't think I'd see you back in here again, though. Not with your new career and all…"

Milo swirled the whiskey around in his tumbler and exhaled. "It's killing you, isn't it, corporal…go ahead and ask."

"Hell, I haven't been a corporal in years, Sarge." The badger rubbed at the back of his head. "You know that. But, yeah. What in the Creator's name happened to get you in the cockpit of an _Arwing?_"

"Coincidence and a few medical flukes." Milo shrugged. "Sure, the rest of my team can fly circles around me, but I'm the best analyst they got. Most level-headed of the bunch, too."

"Yeah, looks like they paired you up with a bunch of kids." Lowery joked.

"They're not young, Greg, I'm just old." Milo countered. He raised his glass up to his snout, and paused long enough to whisper, "Old and tired."

Lowery nodded at the subtle message and whistled lowly at Private Yates. "Go ahead and push off, Yates. I'd like some time alone to catch up with my friend here."

"Sure, sure." The golden retriever nodded eagerly. "Oh, Sergeant Granger? You think afterwards, you could give me some tips for sniping, seeing as you were in the Special Forces?"

Milo's eyes went cold. He stared at the pup and gave exactly one shake of his head. "No."

Defeated and confused, Private Yates wandered off, leaving Lowery and Milo alone.

The badger leaned over the counter, searching Milo's countenance. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." Milo mumbled. He polished off his second double and blinked a few times. "I'll be needing some water here, I think. Gotta drive back to Deckmore after this, just got a day pass."

"And you spent it driving out here instead of going into Farrandal and getting some tail?" Lowery sounded surprised. "You _are_ getting old, Sarge."

"How's your old man doing, Greg? I was expecting to see him behind the counter."

"Ah, he had a heart attack two years ago. Comes in every so often, but I'm the one pretty much running the place these days. He'd have loved to see you. Want me to give him your regards?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

The badger turned around for a bit as he poured a glass of water from the tap. "Scuttlebutt is that you guys have been tearing the Primals a new one, but they dinged ya bad."

"We don't get vacations because we need them, true enough." Milo admitted. "Our ship's being fixed up. We've got no place to go. I thought I'd come and pay my respects to the wall."

Lowery agreed with a solemn bob of his head. "Yeah. Amen to that, Sarge." He poured himself a drink and raised the glass. "To old friends who aren't with us." The badger tilted his glass and spilled out a small portion onto the counter.

Milo smiled sadly and raised his glass of water. "To old friends. And old debts."

They clinked their cups together and downed the contents.

Lowery picked up the empty glasses. "You want another, Milo?"

"No. I just want to sit and think for a while."

"You've got it." Lowery promised.

Milo relaxed his posture and leaned against the counter, sweeping his eyes across the wall of photographs of the honored dead. There were too many there that he knew.

What kept his mind spinning freely was how many more would go up on that wall before the next time he came back to The Firing Range.

If he ever would at all.

* * *

_The McCloud Household_

_Edgewood, Sallwey_

Even before Dana had parked the car, Terrany saw the curtain at the front window pull back. The white-furred vixen winced. "She's inside."

Dana pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked at her. "Hey, she's your mom. She's not going to tear your head off, okay?"

"Probably not." Rourke amended. The two women glowered at him, and the gray wolf rolled his eyes and mumbled a halfhearted apology. "Fine. Let's just get out and get this over with."

The three opened up their doors and stepped out. "You nervous or something, Rourke?" Terrany asked her flight lead.

"Not particularly." He replied defensively. "I just wouldn't have picked this as our spot to get away from it all."

"Well, wipe that scowl off your face at least." Dana criticized him, as they strolled to the front door. "If you won't do it for decency's sake, then do it for Carl."

That finally seemed to make a dent in Rourke's wall, and he dropped his disagreeable stare.

Taking the lead, Terrany went up to the front door of her house and gave it a knock. It opened almost immediately, and a red-eyed brown vixen appeared. She let out a choking sob and pulled Terrany into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Terrany."

The emotion of the moment caught Terrany fast, and her eyes misted up. "Hey, mom. I missed you."

Mrs. McCloud pulled back and kissed her daughter on the forehead, holding her by the shoulders. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." At last, Terrany could see how much her mother had been crying. "I mean, your ship was damaged, nobody was saying anything…"

"I'm here now, and I'm fine." Terrany reassured her. Her mother let out a choked laugh and wiped at her eyes. Terrany motioned behind her. "These are two of my wingmen. They wanted to come along with me to meet you."

Unsurely, Dana and Rourke came up closer to the door.

"Mrs. McCloud, I'm Dana Tiger. I was the lead test pilot for Project Seraphim. Your son and I…Carl…" Dana silenced the hitch in her voice and folded her hands nervously. "We were close friends. I'm sorry we lost him."

Mrs. McCloud sized up the younger female and nodded at the apology. She turned her gaze on the gray furred wolf next, and narrowed her eyes.

"You seem somewhat familiar. What's your name?"

Rourke pulled himself to a more military stance. "Lieutenant Rourke O'Donnell, flight lead of the Starfox team. I was second in command of Seraph Flight when Skip was in charge."

Rourke was reminded of how Terrany had first reacted upon learning his last name as the scrutinizing look Mrs. McCloud was giving him turned into a complete simmering glare.

"It didn't take you long to usurp his place, did it?" She quipped bitterly. A flash of anger burned behind Rourke's eyes, but he held it in check as Terrany stepped out in front of him.

"If he hadn't, the team would have fallen apart. I trust him, mom, and you should too. He was Carl's friend, and he's mine as well."

Not so easily deflected, Mrs. McCloud held a brief staring contest with the third guest. When it became clear he wasn't about to flinch away, she looked to Terrany without further comment.

"Well, don't just stand there. Come on in already. I was just about to start making lunch, and you and Dana can give me a hand." With deliberate delay, she added, "And I suppose _he_ can come in as well."

Not waiting for a reply, Mrs. McCloud headed inside the house, with Terrany quick on her heels. Dana and Rourke were a little slower, as the striped tigress rested a paw on his shoulder. The wolf rolled his eyes.

"She probably thinks I'm the one who put a gun to Skip's head."

"Take it easy, Rourke." Dana cautioned him. "Best behavior now."

"This is my best behavior." Rourke groused, coming in last. "I didn't let off a comeback."

* * *

_Venom_

_Mobile Flight Control_

The Primals now sported a vast network of defenses and early detection arrays on and around Venom. Fifteen kilometers from the Hall of Antiquity, the elite squadrons that had been tasked with the destruction of Starfox flew in a massive training sortie, flying against each other with weakened lasers and proximity "Glitter Missiles." Only Phoenix Squadron remained on the ground, inside of a massive communications vehicle dedicated to their cause.

Grandflight Gatlus kept his eyes focused on the spherical radar display that showed the positions and vectors of the swarm miles above their heads. With a glance to the left or right of his station, he could view the gun camera feed from any of the Helions he so chose, to track how well a particular pilot kept on target, or conversely, how well his prey was able to evade.

A member of The Lords Squadron loosed a missile towards a middle of a three way duel. The member of Eclipse Squadron he had targeted couldn't track the inbound effectively, and an explosion of green dust coated the entire back end of his fighter with sticky, reflective glitter.

"Hoo, he felt that one." Flint winced sympathetically.

Telemos chose to ignore the off-handed remark of his subordinate and toggled his radio interlink. "Eclipse Two, out."

Gatlus cleared his throat. "I understand why you elected not to take part in this first sortie, Captain Telemos."

"Oh?" Telemos said nonchalantly. "Why is that, sir?"

"I think you've earned the right to call me Valmoor, Telemos." The older Primal harrumphed. "It would please me if you did."

"As you wish, Valmoor."

"I understand you and your men participated in a live-fire exercise yesterday."

"That is correct."

"After that harrowing ordeal, I can see why you would not wish to return to the air so soon." Grandflight Gatlus goaded him. Telemos tensed up, and Saber and Nome looked at each other in surprise before going back to listening in on the open chatter from the exercise combatants.

Telemos ground his teeth together. "That is an inaccurate assessment, Valmoor."

"Really?" Gatlus feigned surprise before resuming a gruff air. "Then enlighten me."

"The Phoenix is vastly superior to the Helions flown by the others, even with the modifications taken from the confiscated Model K." Telemos blinked as another ship went down. "Lords Three, out." He called over the radio, then turned his attention back to Gatlus. "It would be unfair for us to fly against them yet."

"You put a lot of faith in your aircraft, Telemos. That is a failing." Gatlus growled warningly. "The inner fire of the pilot can remove all limitations, regardless of the airframe."

"The Phoenix is capable of dimensional teleportation and carries a ludicrous missile complement." Telemos snapped back. "Were you told _that_ in your briefing, Valmoor?"

The blinking silence that the wizened Primal pilot returned with indicated he had not been briefed on the Phoenix's unique capabilities.

"I see the Tribunes have been busy making their own personal squadron of assassins." He muttered lowly.

"The Phoenix is a marvel, but it is not yet perfect." Telemos went on, softening the blow. "And neither are we as sharp as we need to be. I have already made several suggestions to the Tribunes as to how to improve on the Phoenix's design."

"Heh!" Gatlus got a good laugh. "I imagine they were taken aback when you requested modifications to their gift. What were your suggestions, then?"

"A modified paint scheme. More matte black, less red." Telemos tapped his radio. "Helios Four, out. The Phoenix has the ability to partially neutralize enemy radar through electronic interference. In the dead of space, a more solid black color scheme will remove our enemies' ability to visually track us as well, making us able to blend in with the void and the stars. We could become little more than shadows. Additionally, the wings currently fold out from a ship-wide diamond shape to forward outfolded prongs. I would prefer if they could sweep back as well, similar to how the Arwings typically fly. It would create a very confusing visual cross-section to shoot at, just as the Arwings can be."

"...Well thought." Gatlus complimented him. "What else?"

"Two additional laser cannons on either side of the nose. Ideally with a limited power supply." Saber cut in helpfully. "During the Captain's duel with the remotely piloted Model K, I noticed that the main gun has significant emitter flash, especially during a charge shot."

"In other words, we have power and mobility within the Phoenix." Telemos concluded. "With some changes, we will have a stealth that the Arwings could never hope to match."

"And will the other six squadrons receive this boon as well?" Gatlus asked.

"I…That, I don't know, Valmoor." Telemos apologized. "Meteor 1, _out_." That fictitious death he reported with more satisfaction than the others, especially when Hachsturm's angry voice came through so loudly that Nome and Saber recoiled from their communications headsets.

"Hmph." Gatlus tapped his boot on the floor of the vehicle. "I don't approve of this at all. We are not sacrifices meant to goad Starfox to a fiery death at your hands, Telemos."

"Agreed, Grandflight." Telemos nodded. "We must all improve and learn. We all have an equal chance of destroying Starfox."

"Especially that Pale Demon."

"No!" Telemos snapped, catching Gatlus by surprise with the younger Primal's sudden rage. Gatlus and the rest of Phoenix Squadron looked at Telemos, who suddenly exhaled heavy breaths, and stormed with brimstone.

Two more kills passed by on the radar without comment from Telemos, who rattled Gatlus with his dark stare.

"Terrany McCloud is _mine_."

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Katina_

_"Roger, Captain Hound, the airspace is clear. Make your descent for Hangar 5, over."_

Hound frowned and toggled his mike. "Deckmore Control, come back? We're to land at Hangar 5, _not_ Site Alpha?"

_"That's affirmative, captain. Orders come straight from your commander, acknowledge."_

"21st Squadron acknowledges." Hound flipped back to his team's personal radio channel. "You heard the man, boys. Follow me in."

"As ordered, boss." Damer chirped merrily.

"Good for landing!" Wallaby added. The three Model K Arwings of the 21st Squadron passed through the last flimsy layer of cloudcover and streaked down towards Deckmore, following a digital line of travel that Deckmore Control had streamed to their HUDs.

Hound pulled his throttle back. "Decrease speed to 200 kph." His ship's powerful plasma thrusters began to produce less noise, and the Arwing lost a touch of its responsiveness.

"Decreasing."

"Pulling 'er back, cap'n."

Hound kept one eye on his speed and the other on his line of travel, making minute adjustments to the throttle to keep him on the path. "Drop back and give yourself 50 meters of clearance." He didn't bother to look to see if they followed through, knowing that their training guaranteed they would. The regulations were quite specific about distancing between landing aircraft, even the Arwings.

They veered off away from the runway on the digital path, heading for a large hangar with open doors.

_"Captain Hound, you are cleared to land inside Hangar 5."_

"Come back, Control? **Inside?**" Hound was more dubious by the moment.

The air traffic controller chuckled over the air. _"That's affirmative. They've cleared a spot for you."_

"Shit." Hound hissed to himself. He toggled his helmet's microphone again. "Okay, boys. Warm up your maneuvering thrusters."

"Heated."

"Green light for thrusters."

Hound grit his teeth and swung low, holding barely three meters off of the thankfully flat ground of the base. The mouth of the hangar loomed larger by the second, and now he could see that the center of the hangar was cleared for their landing. "Full retros on my mark. Three…Two…One…Fire Retros!"

The three Arwings shuddered as their forward momentum was nearly stalled out, and only the G-Diffusers and quick application of the maneuvering thrusters kept them from skidding belly-first into the building. As it was, another two seconds of mind-numbing concentration passed before Captain Hound's Arwing came to a complete stop at the back of the hangar, five meters from the rear wall. The ship rose and fell slightly under the effect of the ventral maneuvering rockets and the buoyant G-Diffuser field.

Hound looked back over his shoulder and let out his held breath. Both Wallaby and Damer had come in cleanly, and even put a good amount of distance between them.

Hound reached for another toggle. "Activate landing struts." He flipped the switch, activating a blinking red light at the top of the toggle. Underneath his Arwing, three reinforced landing pylons lowered down and reached full extension, bouncing off the pavement as the G-Diffusers began to ease off. The blinking red light on his landing gear went solid green; full extension.

Hound nodded and hit the most important button on the aircraft. "Shut down."

The engines let out a depleting whine as the particle condensers stopped synthesizing hydrogen. The last bit of residual thrust burned itself out, and the G-Diffusers came shortly after. The Arwing settled onto its pylons, and Captain Hound finally felt the gravitational pull of Katina; 95 percent of one Cornerian Standard G. The last thing to move on the aircraft was its swept wings, which pulled back almost snug against the hull into launch position.

Technicians poured out from the corners of the hangar and raced towards the three newly landed Arwings. They swarmed around and underneath the new Arwings, babbling to each other in the incomprehensible language of engineers and mechanics. Hound popped the canopy and set his helmet in his seat before climbing down to the concrete floor. His attention went to an elderly amphibian who hobbled towards them with a charitable smile and a walking cane.

Wallaby and Damer ran over to join his side, and Wallaby nudged Damer in the ribs. "Hey, isn't that the President of Arspace?"

"Slippy Toad, yeah." Damer nodded. "What's he doing here?"

"You can ask him yourself, Ostwind. He's headed right for us." Captain Hound smoothed out his flight suit to look more presentable.

Slippy Toad nodded to each of them in turn. "I see you three made it in all right. Thanks for landing your birds in one piece."

"It's been a while since we did a landing without tractor nets." Hound shook Slippy's hand. "Glad to see we can still manage."

"Hell, you want to talk about rough landings, I've got plenty of stories I could tell you." Slippy grinned. "Most of them about Falco." He motioned for the three to follow him. "Come on, let's walk and talk. I've got a personal transport waiting for us outside."

Hound kept pace with the unusually spry centenarian, and Wallaby and Damer followed at the rear. "Mr. Toad, if I might ask…why are we parking the Arwings here and not in the _Wild Fox_?" He glanced around the hangar, noticing that all of the Seraph Arwings were docked as well. "All of them?"

"Two reasons, captain. One, the _Wild Fox_ is going to take a lot of repairs, and we won't be able to do those if General Grey's constantly interrupting my grandson and my work teams to launch you all on sorties or receive you back aboard." Slippy held up a second wrinkled finger. "So for the time being, we're going to use Hangar 5 as the home for your Arwings. Don't worry, we've got everything we need to repair, refuel, and rearm my pride and joy right here. Which brings us to the second reason this hangar's so damn busy."

Slippy paused at the edge of the hangar's outer doors and smiled. "Upgrades."

"Oh?" Captain Hound's mind reeled at the possibilities. "What kind of upgrades?"

"Something Wyatt's been working on for a while, but never had the time to integrate into the Seraphs before." Slippy answered cryptically. "It'll give them some much needed versatility."

"Oh, well isn't that terrific _for them._" Damer cut in bitterly. "And what about us? Nothing for the _old pilots_, then?"

A small electric cart pulled up next to their group, and a base MP nodded to the group. "Your ride, Mr. Toad. Captain."

"Ah, perfect timing." Slippy climbed in the front seat and gestured to the second row and back seat of the ordinarily recreational vehicle. "Get in, get in. One of you'll have to ride in the back, I'm afraid."

"He means you, rookie." Damer nudged Wallaby. The marsupial groaned, but did as he was told, flopping into the makeshift backseat of the cart. The others seated themselves in the second row, and the cart took off.

"Actually, captain, your Model K's are being given a retrofit as well." Slippy corrected the gruff flier. "When the SDF commissioned the Model K series, it went against my better wishes and opted _out_ of equipping the G-Diffusers with certain modifications. By tomorrow, your three Model K Arwings will be the only ones of their kind in the entire SDF complement capable of utilizing "The Draw Effect." If you even know what that is."

"Oh." Hound _did_ know what the Draw Effect was, but he'd never flown in a ship that could use it. "Well…thank you."

"You're welcome." Slippy rolled his wide, bulbous eyes. "Don't worry, I'll send General Kagan the bill. He won't like it, but if it means giving you the ability to recharge your shields or equip gear on the go, I don't think he'll complain too much. Not as things stand."

"One thing doesn't make sense, though." Damer thought aloud. The cart cornered around a landing strip and made for the _Wild Fox_. "Why the hurry to get that upgrade put into place? The mothership isn't going anywhere anytime soon and we're on leave. Or we were _supposed_ to be." He added, giving Hound a look.

Hound shook his head. "Damer, you're our tactician and you can't even see down your nose?"

The squirrel looked blankly between Hound and Slippy Toad. "What? What am I missing?"

Slippy let out a ribbit and puffed his throat pouch out slowly. "The crew only got a one day pass."

"We'll need those upgrades, where we're headed." Captain Hound summarized.

The realization sobered up what was left of Damer's cheerful mood.

* * *

_McCloud Household_

_Edgewood, Katina_

The preparations leading up to a late lunch, as well as the meal itself, remained tense. The barely veiled hostility between Rourke and Mrs. McCloud was palpable throughout, moreso when Dana, pressed for information about how Terrany joined up with them, regaled the first duel between the last O'Donnell and the youngest McCloud. Only after Dana prodded Mrs. McCloud to tell them more about Skip did things calm down again…Helped when Rourke excused himself, and became conspicuously absent.

With the sound of Dana and her mother chatting and cleaning the dishes in the background, Terrany walked through the house in search of her flight lead. She'd looked first in the restroom, and after that, the room dedicated to the medals, pictures, and commendations bestowed on the three generations of McCloud pilots that preceded her. On a whim, she'd gone to Carl's bedroom, and then her own.

Rourke was nowhere to be found.

Hoping that he hadn't climbed in the rented hovercar and driven off in a funk, Terrany went for the garage, intending on going out that way. She slowed up when she located Rourke; not outside, but in the garage, going over a motorcycle.

_Her_ hovercycle.

He stood up and nodded at her, then reached for a cloth rag. "Decent ride. Vintage Hagley, Series SR. There's not many of 'em left. Yours?"

"Yeah." Terrany nodded. "Belonged to my dad. I guess my mom had it towed back here from the Pheran Desert. We couldn't exactly bring it with us when we went to Ursa." She crossed her arms. "You know a lot about bikes, then?"

"Not as much as some." The wolf said humbly. "But I fixed your timing belt. It should ride a little smoother now." He slipped a hex wrench back into the toolbox he'd gotten it from and closed the lid. "Sorry about bailing back there. If I didn't leave, I was likely to take your mom's head off."

"Thanks for being so considerate." Terrany chuckled. She sashayed over to her hovercycle without meaning to and mounted it. "I think maybe you just have that effect on people."

"On McClouds, at least." Rourke glanced along the wall of the garage, trying to look interested at the mismatched gardening tools instead of Terrany's legs, visible through the pressed fabric of her khakis. "You got over it after a while, but your mom's a different ball of wax."

"Yeah." Terrany leaned forward and pressed her body against the frame of her Hagley, drawing in the smell of it. "She wasn't too happy when my brother joined the service. Almost flipped her lid when I entered into the Academy. After I got kicked out for that air show accident, she mellowed down some." Terrany pulled back and smoothed out her jacket. "She's never understood McClouds much, or the lifestyle. Dad was just crazy about her, I think." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "He died before they could get a divorce."

"Yeah." Rourke nodded. Terrany looked over to him.

"What about you, Rourke? Your dad and mom?"

"Don't know who my mom was, don't care." He retorted icily. "And my dad was killed."

Terrany blinked. "Sorry I asked." She mumbled.

"I'm just saying, you're luckier than you know." Rourke added. "You had a home, you had a family, and they cared for you. Most animals don't draw a lot that good."

"…You didn't, did you?" Terrany realized. Rourke looked at her hard for a few seconds, then glanced away.

"You haven't told her that you've been grounded yet, have you?"

"I don't see the point in it." The white furred vixen explained. She got off of her hovercycle and wandered around the parked sedan her mother drove. "If I tell her, then she'll want me to quit the team, quit flying. I can't do that. I'm a McCloud, Rourke. Flying's more than what we do. _It's who we are._" She stopped in front of him and clasped a hand to her throat. "I have to fly, Rourke. It's who I am."

"Who you are is going to kill you faster than the Primals!" He reminded her sharply.

Her eyes flickered. A trick of the light, or new tears, he wasn't sure.

"What am I, Rourke? If I can't fly…what good am I?"

Rourke didn't have an answer that would have satisfied the question, so he put the toolbox away mutely. "You'd better get back inside. Spend time with your mom while you can."

"She's driving me crazy."

"Yeah, but she's still your mom." Rourke put his hands into the pockets of his coat. "That should count for something, even if she _does_ hate my guts."

Dana appeared at the garage's entryway to the house. The tigress glanced between them dubiously. "What are you two doing back here? Hiding out?"

Terrany patted Rourke's arm and strolled past Dana. "Just talking, Dana. Hey, mom! You working on dessert yet? Need a hand?"

Dana and Rourke waited behind, and the orange and black tigress raised an eyebrow once Terrany was out of earshot. "Just talking, huh?"

"Hey, I needed something to do, so I came out here and gave her bike a tune-up."

"I'll bet you did."

Rourke frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dana flicked a finger out and struck the tip of his wet nose, causing the gray wolf to recoil. "Mind your no-fly zones."

Rourke tossed his oilcloth on the worktable. "Mind your own damn business."

Dana stood in his way. "She's way too young for you."

"And you're too paranoid for me." Rourke answered glibly, and headed back inside the house for dessert.

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Early Afternoon_

It took both of Deckmore's massive Crawler ground transports to slowly guide the repulsorlift generators and their enormous payload towards the _Wild Fox._

"That's it…watch your corner now." A ground crew chief urged over his radio. Four guiding crewmates walked around each Crawler, offering up minor adjustments to the four drivers manning the flat-topped treaders.

Above them, jutting out majestically towards the heavens, the replacement wing for the crippled ship steadily neared the stubby, blackened hullbrace its predecessor had occupied.

Wyatt came up beside Slippy, who watched the transfer from his borrowed transport cart's passenger seat. The younger Toad plopped into the driver's seat.

"Don't tell me. You just _happened_ to have this piece laying around in a Cornerian warehouse and forgot to tell me."

Slippy rested his head on his left shoulder and lifted his oversized sunglasses up. "Nope, had one of my aeronautics divisions run a duplicate wingset through the mass synthesizer not long after you all saved Corneria City. They're still working on the other three wings. By a stroke of good luck, your vaped wing matches the piece they'd finished. I'm glad I had them start with that one."

"You know, gramps, some days I swear you're almost psychic."

"Nah." Slippy rubbed at his crown. "During the Lylat Wars, we tried to sneak through Sector Z for Macbeth. Andross's troops launched a whole mess of Copperhead cruise missiles at us, and the last set almost took us down. If it hadn't been for Falco's old flame, we would have lost one of our wings, and the Great Fox's abilities in the raid." He pointed to the lift. "_That_ wing."

Stunned at the coincidence, Wyatt whistled lowly. "That's just scary. I guess the Universe finally got its due."

Slippy coughed out a raspy breath. "Lord. Say, Wyatt, isn't there something else you need to be working on?"

"You trying to get rid of me already?" Wyatt teased him. "Relax. I've got Ulie showing your guys where all the burned out conduits need replacing, and my guys are busy retrofitting our Arwings. Hell, we might even get that new Seraph made for Wallaby if we can reconnect our SMS foundry to the impulse vacuum drive in time."

"I know, I was just down there." Slippy chuckled. "You'd love what I'm doing to the Model K's. The 21st will have the fully realized version of the Arwing II when I'm done."

"You're kidding." Wyatt slapped his knee. "You've been bitching about budget cuts for almost ten years now! It's about time you set things straight."

"Considering the current layout of the Starfox team, it's more than just avenging a past wrong." Slippy leaned his head back and yawned. "Hey, I've told everyone else, but I'm not sure if you've heard. General Grey's treating all the engineers to a movie night tonight. You coming?"

"Aah, it's nice of him, but I'm not sure I should waste any time…" Wyatt stopped as he caught his grandfather's quiet scowl. "…and you wanted me to say yes, didn't you?"

"Am I that transparent?" Slippy asked, his good humor restored. "Hey, feel like doing an old man a favor?"

"Depends on the favor." Wyatt determined warily.

Slippy crossed his arms. "Drive me to Deckmore's communications center. I have a trans-planet conference call to make."

"Board meeting?"

"Were it anything else." Slippy sighed. "I really do hate the boring parts of this job."

Wyatt put the golf cart into drive and chuckled. "And now I know the real reason you came here."

* * *

_McCloud Residence_

_Edgewood, Katina_

Terrany's mother sat back in the den in her usual recliner, with Terrany taking the rocker her father had always sat in. Dana and Rourke occupied the room's sofa.

Julia McCloud flipped through the channels, pausing by several news reports and special announcements. All of them were concerned with the war against the Primals.

"Still not much on TV, eh?" Terrany said.

"This war has been the only thing that the news outlets have been focused on for nearly two weeks." Her mother complained. "It's enough to give a person a nervous breakdown. They're always trying to sound upbeat in the briefs, but I almost feel like I'm being fed propaganda. Terrany, are we really winning this war?"

Unsteadily, Terrany scratched at her ear. "It feels like we've been just trying to keep pace with them so far. Even in that last battle, it came out more like a draw. We stopped their grand armada, and they knocked out the _Wild Fox_. The 4th Fleet's gone on the offensive, but we've got a long ways to go before we can kick them out of Lylat."

Julia McCloud flinched. "And…have you gotten into any trouble out there?" Her daughter hesitated, and Julia's alarm only increased.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, mom."

Julia turned to Dana for confirmation, and the tigress blinked. "We've all taken our share of lumps so far."

"We're getting better." Rourke added quickly. "We didn't lose anybody in Sector Y."

"Well, there was that pilot from the 5th Squadron." Terrany brought up.

"Ah, he doesn't count." Rourke tossed back. "Besides, he flew out today."

"But you _could_ die out there!" Mrs. McCloud insisted. Panic was taking a strong hold. "Oh, Terrany…"

"Mom, no." Terrany rubbed at her eyes. "We're not having this argument again."

"Damn it, Terrany, I've already lost one child because of the Primals!" Julia insisted. "I can't bear to lose you, too!"

"He's not dead!" Terrany screamed. The white vixen jerked up from her chair, throwing her arms in the air. "Lylus, what's wrong with all of you? You're all walking around like he's dead and gone, but he's **not!** I know my brother, he wouldn't have died to a Primal cruiser! And he wouldn't have wanted us cowering when there's still a war to fight."

Julia came to her feet, seething. "I won't let you do this. You're not going back there. I don't care what the military says, or what your wingmen want, I forbid you from being a part of this…ridiculous mess!"

As soon as the threat left Mrs. McCloud's throat, something hardened inside of Terrany.

"You _forbid me?_" She growled softly. "You tried to keep me from flying, and you couldn't. You tried to keep me from joining the Academy, and you couldn't. You're going to _forbid ME_ from fighting the Primals?"

Dana and Rourke watched breathlessly. They'd seen Terrany when she was focused and angry, and this was a step above that.

Julia withered under her daughter's newfound rage, and slumped back in her chair. "You…You can't do this." She said, more of a plea than a statement.

"Watch me." Terrany stormed out of the room.

* * *

Terrany went back to the garage and snatched the keys to her Hagley hovercycle off of the wall. She punched the garage door opener harder than she had to and leapt on top of her ride, bringing it to life.

When the main shutter was half a meter up, she saw a pair of durable military surplus boots standing in the driveway. By the time she turned the switch on the ignition, she could make out the legs they were attached to, then the black leather jacket, and then finally, all of Rourke when the door was all the way up and the motor was still.

The wolf stood there, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was neither disapproving nor encouraging.

Terrany bared her teeth and nudged the hovercycle forward a meter and a half. "Move."

"So this is your answer to it." Rourke unfolded his arms. "You run."

"I'm going back to base. I'm not running." Terrany rasped. "I'm not some paper doll that my mom can keep protected forever. I'm a McCloud, and I'm a pilot, and I belong up in those skies, fighting the Primals. I _belong_ on the Starfox team, because that's _my_ ship we're all flying on." She nudged her hovercycle forward, putting the nose out of the garage.

"You're grounded. Orders say you don't get near your Seraph, you don't talk to KIT, and you don't fly." Rourke tilted his head to the side, unfazed by her posturing. "What was your plan? Did you have one? Soon as you try to Merge, the same thing's going to happen. You'll black out, and in combat, you'll die."

"No." Terrany shook her head. "I don't believe that. This is like everything else I've ever done. You think I could fly circles around my brother all of my life? You think I learned to drive this hovercycle in a single afternoon? It took _practice_, Rourke. Hard work. If I can practice enough with Merging, if I can exercise my brain to handle the stress, I can get past this."

The flight leader of the Starfox team blinked. "That's a heavy gamble, Terrany."

"McClouds gamble." Terrany retorted, flexing her Hagley's powerful engine with a roar. "Now are you going to move, or am I going to have to run you over?"

"You'd fly even if it would kill you." Rourke stated.

"My great grandfather, my grandfather, and my dad all flew. They knew the risks, same as I did." Terrany flicked her ears. "Same as you do, same as every pilot does. Up there, in an Arwing, I have a fighting chance. That's more than most people have."

"And you're stubborn enough that even if I said no, you'd just do it anyway." Rourke tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather coat. "But you're not going without some help." He pulled out a small earring that Terrany recognized…her transceiver that let her speak to KIT outside of the Seraph.

"My communicator?" Rourke tossed it at her, and Terrany snatched it and held it tight. "How did you get this?"

"I took it from Doc Bushtail's office when he wasn't looking." Rourke explained, smiling. "Somehow, I kinda figured you would only do so much moping around before you did something crazy. If you're going to try and hijack your Seraph, you're going to need KIT's help to do it."

Terrany guided her hovercycle ahead a few more paces and gave Rourke a kiss on his cheek. "You really are a pirate, Rourke." She smiled. "Thank you."

"You want to thank me, come back alive and awake." He replied, looking away with a cough. "You're no good to this team dead."

"I'll be careful." She promised him, and put her earpiece in. A press on the side brought it back to life, and she spoke again. "Hey Kit, can you hear me?"

_"Terrany?"_ The A.I. aboard her Seraph was incredulous as he radioed back. _"You okay? Nobody's told me anything since you got hauled off!"_

"I blacked out for a while, and they put me on restricted duty. I'd rather solve the problem than sit back and worry. Start powering up the ship's systems, slowly. I don't want anyone knowing we're doing this until it's too late to stop us."

Terrany gunned her engine and tore out of her driveway, bound for Deckmore a half hour away.

Rourke stood in the driveway, idly rubbing the spot on his cheek where Terrany had kissed him. Dana walked up beside him, stormclouds hanging on her face. "You're corrupting her, you know."

"I'm not corrupting her, Dana." The gray wolf shook his head. "She's corrupting me."

"If you say so." Dana sounded dubious. "Though I do like you not snapping off at people all the time. Come on back inside, you've gotta help me calm Julia down. She's getting hysterical."

"You women are going to kill me faster than the Primals." Rourke groused, and turned to follow her. His communicator went off, and the two remaining pilots of Starfox froze. Rourke dug it out of his other coat pocket and toggled the switch. "This is Rourke, go ahead."

_"Lieutenant, this is Dander." _General Grey's XO announced. _"Just wanted to check in with you three, see where you were."_

Rourke and Dana looked at one another, and Rourke paused for a few seconds before toggling the talk switch again. "We're still at the McCloud house in Edgewood. Should be here for another couple of hours yet."

_"Well, all right then. Lame Duck, out."_

Rourke flipped his radio off and tucked it away. "Lame Duck. Nice fake callsign."

"So now we're lying to Command?" Dana asked, starting for the garage door again.

"I didn't lie." Rourke chuckled. "You and I are still here. I just neglected to tell them Terrany took off."

"That's a pretty heavy half-truth."

"Hey, I used to be a pirate." Rourke reminded her. "It's all about half-truths."

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Outside the Fence_

_30 minutes later_

_"If you're really set to jump the fence, Terrany, that's the best place to do it. Just make sure you've got enough speed."_

"One thing I never had trouble getting enough of, Kit, was speed." Terrany guided her hovercycle off of the main road and onto the rough terrain outside of the base. Her new course took her away from the gaggle of news crews and observers gathered outside the gates, who remained oblivious to her presence. "If this works, I'll see you on Runway 3 in 90 seconds."

_"Roger that, Terrany. I'm moving out."_

* * *

_Arwing Hangar_

The Arspace technicians and engineers had been swarming like gnats over the Model K Arwings and the Seraphs belonging to Rourke, Milo, and Dana. The only Arwing left whole and unopened was Terrany's…a fact that KIT was truly thankful for. Through the Seraph's exterior cameras, as well as the security feed he'd wirelessly hacked into, the AI was aware of every living soul around him.

The most important of them was Slippy, who was one of the few people who still talked to him personally, due largely to their shared history. It made the digitized spirit wistful, and also a little irritated.

Slippy always could push his buttons.

"So whatever happened to that kitten of yours?" Slippy goaded his old friend. "Miss Monroe, I believe her name was?"

_"You know perfectly well her name was Katt, you old wart." _KIT grumbled. _"And I broke it off with her back when Fox was still flying. She was too smothering for my tastes."_

"Strange how some women prefer their men to not ride in on the tail of a comet and leave the same way."

_"Oh yeah. You did __**real**__ good raising your tadpoles." _KIT snorted derisively. _"Not a flaming pilot in the lot of them, and your technical skill skipped a generation. You sure picked a winner there."_

"Hey, leave my poor dead Amanda alone." Slippy snapped. "Give it a rest, would you? You're not the one who married her. Talk about smothering, Creator above…"

The two shared a laugh over their past loves that nearly covered up the sudden whine of the Seraph Arwing's twin plasma engines. Slippy blinked as the sound registered against his tympanic membranes.

"Falco…are you starting up your engines?"

_"Yes, yes I am. You might want to get clear, Slip. I'll do my best for an easy takeoff, but this thing handles a little rough from a cold start."_

"Good grief, are you out of your mind?" Slippy exclaimed, backing away.

_"Have been for almost 20 years." _KIT said smugly. _"Relax, old man. I'm just getting out to stretch my wings. We need a little more training, is all."_

"Get clear! Everybody, move!" Slippy shouted out. His techs scrambled for cover as the Seraph's maneuvering thrusters kicked on. "Alert the base we've got a rogue takeoff!"

It took Slippy a few moments, with KIT and the hijacked Seraph easing out of the hangar doors, to do a double take. "Wait a minute. WE?"

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

Woze held his headset tight against the side of his skull, narrowing his eyes as he did a quiet double take. Only once he was sure did the communications officer call it out.

"General Grey, we've got an unscheduled launch from the Arwing hangar! One of the planes is taking off!"

The old dog whipped his head up from the command chair's headrest. "Say _what?_ Are Slippy's techs going for a joyride?"

"Negative, sir. They sounded the alarm." Woze winced. "The Arwing's moving without a pilot."

"Remote access?" Grey sounded the idea, dreading the consequences if it was true. Almost immediately after the first thought, the more likely one came to mind. "Wait a second. _Which Arwing_ is taking off?"

He looked over to Hogsmeade at the radar station, who quickly referred to his IF/F beacons. The porcine officer made a face. "X-1 Double Zero…Terrany's Arwing."

"KIT." Grey spat the name out. "Woze, patch me in over the Starfox team frequency."

The radio technician did as he was told with a few button presses. "Go ahead, general."

"KIT, this is General Grey. I know you can hear me."

_"Hey, General. You crapping your pants on the _Wild Fox_ or something? What's wrong?"_

"What in the Hell do you think you're doing, KIT? You're not authorized to take that plane out. Land it, NOW."

_"No can do, Arnold. You know, Bill Grey was a lot friendlier than you are. I guess only your ability to command runs in the family."_

"You Goddamned son of a…"

_"Watch the language, general. Don't worry, I'll bring it back once we're done with it."_

And to the incredulous look on his face, General Grey repeated the quizzical response that Slippy had done only moments before.

"Hold on. _WE?_"

* * *

Terrany pushed down the urge to let out a warcry as she pushed her hovercycle's engine closer to the redline. Pulling back on the grips, she boosted a larger than normal pulse through the repulsors at the top of the small hill near the outer fence. The last bit of push gave her a clear arcing trajectory over the barrier, and she came crashing down inside of Deckmore's grounds.

The hovercycle's repulsors strained under the sudden return of the ground, but expert handling on her part kept the ride from wiping out. Laughing from the adrenaline rush, Terrany guided the Hagley onto the end of Runway 3 and screamed down the leveled concrete.

_"Nice jump, kid." _KIT chuckled. _"I'll give you a 7 for the landing, though."_

"Ah, I stuck that landing and you know it." Terrany could make out her Seraph hurtling down the runway on low thrust, still managing to stay far ahead of a line of pursuing security vehicles with their flashing lights. "Looks like you're bringing some company with you."

_"Yeah, that I am. We've got time enough for a stop and grab. Hang on, Terrany, I'm about to show you what __**real**__ ground-level maneuvering looks like."_

Terrany slowed up her hovercycle and killed the engine, then watched KIT raise the Seraph up five meters. With the added height giving him clearance from the ground, the AI inverted the Seraph and lowered itself back down, until the canopy was only two meters above the runway, and the engines perilously closer to scraping along the ground.

With the steady digital hand of KIT guiding it, the Seraph slowed up on the approach to Terrany, then came to a sudden halt with a massive blast of retro-rockets that blew a hot surge of air through her headfur. The canopy cracked open, and KIT's voice blared out from the cockpit. _"Get aboard."_

Her flight helmet rolled down along the inside of the transparent canopy, and Terrany caught it and swiftly slipped it on. The neural interlink studs along the dorsal ridge flickered with a trace of electricity to get her attention. Terrany held off the wince and clambered along the angled canopy interior, getting a handhold on her seat. "Gonna have to get used to that pinch." She told herself. "Roll us, Falco!"

_"Hope you've got a good grip, Terrany!"_ KIT raised the Arwing up into the air and shut off the retros. As the Arwing started forward, the A.I. curled in a lazy aileron roll that dumped Terrany into the cockpit and gave her time to get seated properly.

"Button it up, Kit." Terrany ordered, securing her flight harness. The canopy closed back down and hissed as the pressure seal reactivated, providing Terrany with a nominal 1 Cornerian Atmosphere of barometric pressure.

_"All flight systems are in the green. No engine anomalies, but we've only got about four hours' worth of fuel left. They didn't top this thing off after the Sector Y debacle."_

Terrany set one hand on the stick and the other on the throttle slider, her thumb resting on the wingswitch lever. "I think about four hours of this is all I'm going to be able to take, no matter what. And remember, if I pass out…"

_"Fly you back to base and shut down, I know."_

Her radio went off, and the angry image of General Grey appeared full in her canopy's HUD.

_"McCloud, you turn that plane around and you land it __**right now!**__ You're grounded, remember?"_

Terrany smirked. "What'll you do if I don't, general? Shoot me down? I don't think so. I know Doc Bushtail's still working on the cause of the problem, I'd rather focus on the solution. When Kit and I are done, we'll land. In the meantime, just stay put and let me figure out how to Merge without going catatonic."

_"This is gross insubordination! I am giving you a direct order, McCloud, turn around or…"_

Terrany promptly flipped up her middle finger towards the camera and killed the radio. "Heh…how much trouble you think we'll be in after this?"

_"Some. A lot. Who cares?" _KIT laughed. _"They need us. And we need to step our game up. So how you want to work this?"_

"Conditioning." Terrany explained, leveling out her Arwing at 5,000 meters. "We're going to train my brain to handle the…strain."

_"Nice rhyme." _KIT went serious. _"Synch is at 55 percent and rising. Ready when you are."_

Terrany closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and willed the Arwing to blossom into its ultimate configuration. Light flooded her mind as she rejoined Falco's avatar inside of the shared space between flesh and machine, and the white fox and blue bird shared a determined nod.

_**"Let's aim for 70 percent Synch and repeat it until it doesn't hurt."**_

* * *

The Katinan sunset was imminent when Rourke and Dana drove their rented hovercar through the main gates of Deckmore and passed by the security checkpoints. The wolf, who had moved up to the front passenger seat, noticed that extra security patrols were driving around the outer fence.

"Huh. They weren't there when we left."

"How much you want to bet that Terrany has something to do with this?"

"I think that we should both save our money for bets we don't know the answer to."

Another jeep filled with military police met them 100 meters inside the grounds. The two vehicles pulled up beside one another after the driver flagged them down, and Dana stuck her head out the window.

"Something wrong?"

"We have orders to escort you to the _Wild Fox_, Miss Tiger. General Grey is expecting you."

Dana made a face. "Terrific."

The jeep pulled around behind them, then took the lead, driving them to the landing pad that the _Wild Fox_ was sitting on. Rourke leaned forward in his seat slightly as he sighted a host of workers crawling over the outer surface of the damaged side of the ship, and a fully-fleshed wing to replace the one that had been vaporized.

"They've been busy."

"Yeah, but I think we're gonna get yelled at."

"Better let me do the talking, then." Rourke said, letting his head roll back against the headrest. "Grey's used to chewing my ass off. I think he likes the taste of it."

After parking their hovercar in a section of grass cordoned away from the bulk of the mothership, Rourke and Dana headed through the rear cargo hatch. Grey was waiting for them, his arms crossed and his face sour.

"About time you two showed up. Mind telling me why you lied to a superior officer?"

"Lied, sir?" Rourke responded quizzically.

"When Dander called you. You said you were all at Terrany's place. I know you're all as thick as thieves."

"I didn't lie, sir." Rourke explained, keeping a straight face. "We were. Terrany left a while after that, but we thought she was running to the store for some more chips."

Grey's scowl deepened. "Yeah, right. You're not fooling anyone. How come you didn't report her missing when she didn't come back?"

"Because as far as I knew, she wasn't a flight risk." The wolf deadpanned the pun, and earned the desired result of Grey pulling a hand down over his face. "Why, did something happen?"

"You know _damn well what happened_, O'Donnell!" Grey yelled at him so loudly that a glob of spittle smacked against Rourke's cheek. "Terrany raced back here to base, jumped the damn fence, and somehow managed to get KIT to launch their Arwing, get aboard, and fly off before base security could stop her. She's up there right now, putting herself in jeopardy just to prove a damn point. Dr. Bushtail's tearing his hair out over this mess!"

"Huh." Rourke scratched at his chin. "Well, that's a bit of a problem. But you can't exactly arrest her. I mean, she's not in the military, so court martial's out of the question. And it's her plane, and she's the only one who can fly that Arwing."

"You been rehearsing this line of reasoning much, O'Donnell?" Grey said warningly.

"Hey, I'm not saying it isn't a problem." Rourke backpedaled, putting his hands out in front of him. "In combat, she needs to be able to follow orders, or people will die. That said, she wasn't putting anyone at risk today outside of herself, right?"

"…Yes…"

Rourke nodded, seeming more confident. "And if she's up there trying to get a better handle on Merge Mode, it helps out the team, and the war effort, more in the long run. Right?"

Grey didn't dignify Rourke's logic with another affirmative. The old hound jammed his corncob pipe between his teeth and reached for a pack of matches. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, Starfox is back on the job."

"Aye, sir." Rourke gave a slow salute. Grey chuffed and stormed away, leaving Rourke and Dana to ponder his foul mood. The wolf rubbed at his cheek, removing the general's spit. "He didn't buy it, but he can't prove it. And he can't do anything about it, either."

"The benefits of being in a mercenary squadron." Dana laughed. She reached over and hugged Rourke around the waist. "Hey, thanks for being there today. You made it less awkward for Terrany and me."

"That's my job." The wolf rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go check in on my plane before I hit the sack. With all the tinkering that Wyatt's been up to, I might as well make sure they didn't reset ODAI or anything."

On his way out, he passed by Milo, who had just arrived himself.

"Hey, Rourke."

"Milo." The wolf tightened up his jacket. "Hit the bunk, old man. Grey's putting us back on the hunt tomorrow."

"Well, now." Surprised, Milo stood aside as Rourke trudged out of the _Wild Fox_ for places unknown. The raccoon blinked once, then walked over and greeted Dana with a squeeze of her shoulder. "I take it I missed something?"

"Just Terrany living up to the callsign she gave this ship. Oh, and Rourke and I got to meet her mother today."

Milo made a face. "Meeting the parents. Now his foul mood makes sense."

* * *

_Evening_

A peal of laughter passed through the congregated mass of engineers and technicians in the _Wild Fox's_ cafeteria. After a hearty catered meal from the local steakhouse, they were relaxing as they watched Pelos Pinfeather go tumbling down a flight of stairs; a recent holovid release brought in from the city for their amusement and relaxation.

Laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes, Slippy Toad managed to compose himself and take a deep breath. "Pelos isn't bad, but you should have seen his father. Hogan Pinfeather could put this guy to shame." He reached under his seat and pulled up a bucket of popcorn, extra fake butter topping. The gooey, salty mess left a thin layer of slime over his webbed fingers. "Hmm, good popcorn, though. You've got one Hell of a cook. What was his name, Wyatt? Pugs?"

Slippy munched slower when he received no answer. He frowned and looked beside him. "Wyatt? Are you…"

The old wart stopped talking when he saw that his grandson was slumped in his chair. After working for far too long with too little sleep, the young engineer had succumbed to a drooling stupor in the dark, easy atmosphere of the movie.

Slippy dug for another handful of popcorn. "You finally stopped." He said, puffing out his throat pouch. "Go ahead and sleep, then." He tossed a kernel at Wyatt's forehead, and the younger Toad let out a snort before slipping back away into a soft snore.

Wyatt closed his eyes and lost himself in the laughter of all the Arspace engineers and technicians. People looked to Starfox for hope, but it was his boys, these skilled wrench turners, that kept Starfox flying. Surrounded by them, Slippy finally felt like he was home.

"Rest." Slippy raised the handful of popcorn to his wide lips. "You earned it."


	21. Sleight of Hand

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SLEIGHT OF HAND

**The Pirate Insurgency-** While space pirates had been a constant irritation since the development of Faster Than Light travel, it was not until the creation of the SDF and Corneria's military expansion that the various factions became a true threat. In the face of their destruction, the various mercenary guilds and pirate warlords banded together to form the Insurgency, which nearly succeeded in halting Corneria's rising star. The hostilities lasted nearly three decades, as there were plenty of outlying sympathetic planets willing to give them safe harbor against a common foe. Only after the the bulk of the Insurgency's aircraft were neutralized in the skies of Venom and the Papetoon Insurrection was shattered did the coalition self-destruct.

**(Excerpt from Professor Emeritus Dulcines Hammarty, Graves University, Katina)**

"_**There's an old saying. What came first, the chicken or the egg? Apply it to modern history. Did the Space Defense Forces create their own worst enemy when they began their brutal crackdown on the fringe elements of Lylatian society, or were the pirates fated to join together for one last struggle? You can produce evidence for either claim, but if one digs deeper, a fundamental truth comes to bear. The space pirates, like any criminal organization, sought profits. Open warfare is never a profitable endeavor. One has to ask the question, especially when one looks at what the conflict cost. Not just one McCloud, but **__two __**perished flying in those campaigns. How terrible that sacrifice sounds…if war could have been avoided."**_

* * *

_11__th__ Day of the Primal War_

_Subspace_

Three Seraph Arwings and three Model K Arwings soared calmly in FTL Drive. In the safe confines of Subspace, no laser blasts were fired, no targeting radars glanced across their deflector screens. As it had always been with pilots, the lulling sensation of peace caused the 21st Squadron and the Starfox Team to let their thoughts drift aimlessly. Rourke O'Donnell reached for the control stick and fingered the grooved surfaces of the mechanism, thinking back to the briefing that had brought them here.

_"The 4__th__ Fleet has engaged the Primal forces on Darussia, both in space and on the ground. They've spread themselves thin for this sortie, but the risks are worth it. If they can destroy the main Primal resistance, they can gain access to the caches of fuel and ammunition in storage there. Darussia isn't as important of a strategic target as, say, Macbeth, but it's their best feasible option. After a very long discussion with Admiral Kagan, he has acknowledged that our best plan of attack is to distract the Primals from that push. The Starfox Team's strength has always been in rapid strikes without warning. If we kept being predictable, they'd just throw the full weight of their artillery at wherever the Fleet went, expecting a full knockout. Markinson's job is going to be pushing the line. As long as Starfox is jumping down their throats at various targets of interest, it'll force them to keep their forces divided, making Markinson's job…and yours…easier. And this time, boys and girls, you get to pick where you're going."_

"Hey O'Donnell? You falling asleep on me, son?" Captain Hound gruffly demanded.

Rourke dialed his mind back in to the present. "No. Just thinking, captain."

"You'd better be thinking about the job." Hound snapped. "I don't want to pop out of subspace and have you freezing up on me because you're worried about that disobedient pilot we left back at Katina."

"Hey, we're _all_ worried about her." Dana Tiger cut in brusquely. "If she can't lick this Merge thing, we're in plenty of trouble."

"Ah, she'll lick it." Milo hummed. "Hell, if we could give your boy Wallaby a crash course on the Seraph and have him fly the damn thing effectively, she can beat this easy. She's the best pilot out of the lot of us."

"Says who, exactly?" Damer Ostwind, the 21st's promoted second in command, demanded. "How did you come by that notion?"

"She's a Seraph pilot." Rourke announced, with a firmness that made his wingmates go quiet. "We _are_ the best."

"You got a lot of balls saying something that presumptuous." Hound snorted. "Are all ex-pirates as cocky as you?"

"Some. Most aren't as well endowed."

The radio flickered with a round of laughter from the other two members of the 21st Squadron, and Hound growled to silence them. "Well, this is your chance then, O'Donnell. We'll just see which flight flies better once we drop out of FTL. You three, or us."

"Hmm. A contest. And I thought that regulations frowned on that sort of thing."

"Ever since I _met you_, the regs have been getting a little screwy." Hound leaned in closer to the camera embedded in his canopy's dash. "We're going to Papetoon to raise some Hell and give the Primals a scare. I'll designate two separate target points. The squadron who has the most confirmed aerial kills gets bragging rights…and the commander of the losing flight buys dinner when we get back home."

"Assuming of course, that the Primals haven't readied enough defenses to shoot us all down." Rourke amended the deal. "We're on our own here, Captain Hound. If something goes wrong, nobody's coming to rescue us. I'll agree to the contest, but it's off if someone gets shot down."

"Agreed." Hound readily nodded to the alteration. He paused for a moment, then smiled with a touch more warmth than he'd ever shown before. "You know, lieutenant, you're actually turning into a pretty decent commander. I guess that Captain McCloud knew what he was doing when he made you his second in command."

Inside Rourke's cockpit, his ODAI laughed, cutting the outbound audio feed. **"Boy, if he only knew why you got the copilot's seat, he'd shut up real quick."**

Rourke scowled at the A.I. "If I'd known how much trouble this would all be, I would've told Skip to shove it."

* * *

_Katina Airspace_

_Above the Pheran Desert_

The Seraph banked in a lazy circle in the region of restricted airspace that General Grey had cordoned off. Terrany pulled her hand back from the control stick and wiped it across the khaki fabric of her pilot's trousers. The faded leather aviator's jacket clung to her body, as the climate control system was struggling to keep pace with the conditions outside.

Terrany wiped her paw off one last time and toggled her headset to hands free mode. "Hey base, when I get back, have Wyatt take a look at the air conditioning in here. I'm sweating like a pig."

_"I'll be sure to pass that along."_ Came the bemused voice of Sasha, the soft-nosed bat who worked at the communications array of the _Wild Fox._ She was more softspoken than Woze, and more proficient in determining odd signals, though not as direct. _"Are you set to go?"_

"As ready as I'm going to be." Terrany looked to her photoprojective canopy's HUD and noted the active blinking icon: The Godsight Pods that they'd put into orbit around Katina was providing a secure network uplink to the grounded mothership. "Is Doctor Bushtail getting a good feed?"

_"That he is. Do you need me to repeat the exercise objectives?"_

The white-furred vixen smiled unseen to the vox-only connection. "No, I think I remember it all right." And she did remember it, in summation. Go into Merge Mode with KIT. Achieve a Synch Ratio above eighty percent. Hold it for the full Merge duration. Try not to black out. Land the plane safely back at base when they were done. There were other minor details; target runs, a maneuvering series, advanced combat tactics, but none of those meant anything in comparison to being able to Merge without going into a mini-coma.

KIT, her onboard A.I. and closest voice of reason, seemed to bubble with a brash confidence. _"Don't worry, kid. We're gonna ace this exam for sure this time!"_

"Yeah, you said that the last five times."

_"Yeah, and the last five times, we got a little bit better each go. It's not about getting to your goal in one huge leap, McCloud. It's small steps here. Just makes it harder to see progress is all."_

There was the wisdom of Falco Lombardi, the Lylat Wars' greatest pilot. It was wisdom hard-earned in the long years since the defeat of Andross. Like usual, Terrany accepted the nugget of truth with a curt nod of her head, and then it was back to the mission.

"Okay, Kit." Terrany drew in a long breath, held it in. A slow exhale, and she squeezed the control stick, ignoring the fresh coat of sweat that matted the fur against the plastic grips. "For all the marbles. Let's fly this thing."

_"Don't fly it. Make it soar."_

Terrany closed her eyes, let her mind go blank and wander in search of KIT's own thoughts. Like a familiar wave of warm tidal waters, it washed over her, and everything went white as their thoughts merged into the construct of the white control room.

The Seraph Arwing unfolded all six of its wings, and the thrusters went silent as the G-Negator pods split apart into quarters and unleashed their true might.

Terrany's eyes opened, and her voice, slow and deliberate, nearly machinelike, carried back over the optical interlink to the _Wild Fox._

_**"Merge successful. Beginning mission."**_

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Deckmore AFB, Sallwey Province_

"All right, Mr. Toad. How goes the repairs?" General Grey had elected not to hold the update with Arspace's leader in his office, but in a leisurely stroll through the botanical gardens.

Slippy Toad hobbled along beside the old warhound with the aid of his crutch, more for show than anything else. "Oh, well enough. We've nearly got the replacement wing fully attached, just a few more junctions. Of course, we have to wait for the final connection until we get done with the power refits. It's a lot easier feeding a few kilometers of electrical and sensor wiring through the wing when there's wiggle room in it."

"Mmhm." Grey nodded slowly. "So when do you think we'll be ready to get back into the fight?"

Slippy made a dubious snort. "Later than you'd prefer, I think. You don't want to half-ass a job like this. It took me six years to build the Mark 2 the first go-around, and you've put it through its paces. Besides, there's a few upgrades I'm wanting to put in long as it's grounded."

"Such as?"

"For instance, a transparisteel ceiling for the arboretum here." Slippy gestured to the ceiling. "Transparent metallurgy's come a ways since I put this baby together, and I can give this place a view of the sky and stars without compromising hull integrity now. That was always my hope, you see."

"Mr. Toad, I appreciate your artistic vision, but we can't suspend military operations longer than necessary just to support _luxuries_. The whole Lylat System's at stake."

"You think I don't know that?" Slippy asked. He stopped by a patch of wild Titanian desert orchids and admired them for a moment. "I'm well aware of the danger that we're all up against. That's not the only modification. I have teams under my grandson also retrofitting the Hangar and Launch Bays for additional ships, teams responsible for Arwing add-ons…whenever they're not in the air…and that's all on top of replacing and rewiring all the fused conduits and junction boxes that got fried because of that Megalaser you flew into." Slippy started walking ahead again, and General Grey easily kept pace. "Long story short, I'm not authorizing this ship for active duty for a while yet. I know it busts your chops, but if we don't do this right, you might end up with key systems flaking out in the middle of a firefight. And I've _never_ enjoyed dealing with those consequences."

The general let out a sigh. "All right, fine. My XO's been keeping your people happy during the downtimes. You just make sure they're all putting out their best work."

"They're Arspace engineers." Slippy winked. "We always put out our best."

They wandered on a ways more before Grey brought out his next question. "What modifications are you doing in the Hangar Bay? You expanding the area somehow?"

"No, not so much expanding as…well, generalizing." Slippy said vaguely. "The _Wild Fox_ has enough space to store the Seraphs and the K Arwings of the 21st with ease, but we have space enough for a few more vessels besides. Nothing as considerable as a _Rondo_ transport, mind you…but perhaps a few other craft to bolster this vessel's operational capabilities. Like the Great Fox had in the past."

Grey made a face for a moment before the realization sank in. "You're kidding me. Are you trying to put in a few tanks? What, you wiggling your Landmasters into this mess? We haven't used Landmasters in years. The Cornerian Army utilizes Landrunners."

"Oh, yes. Smart thinking on the military's part, selling out a contract to the lowest bidder. Nothing ever goes wrong with that." Slippy rolled his bulbous eyes. "Even though we haven't had Landmasters in service for a while, it doesn't mean I never stopped tinkering with the design. I put in a call to Corneria City and ordered the transfer of some materials I had lying around. I'm not saying I expect to see Terrany or the others switch out a cockpit for the tank's interior, but it's a handy thing to keep around. And of course, about the only thing left original to it is the chassis and color scheme." He warbled his throat pouch once in satisfaction. "Oh, speaking of Terrany, how's her new Merge training been coming along? She and Falco still playing nice?"

"You'd have to ask Dr. Bushtail for the specifics on that." Grey remarked dully. "I've been staying clear of her for a while now, just so I don't feel the need to bring her up on a court martial."

"It's Hell being the babysitter." Slippy grinned. "The older I get, the more I understand how Peppy always felt."

* * *

_Papetoon Primal Command Outpost_

_Southern Hemisphere, Gordish Peninsula_

The local population had been smashed into submission easily enough. A single Eclipse and its fighter loadout had been enough to level the two major cities of the small world and subjugate a large portion of its population. Though tens of thousands of refugees from this world they called Papetoon had escaped out into the forests and fields of the agricultural planet, hundreds of thousands more had been rounded up and put into quickly built camps. Within five days, Primal Command had deemed Papetoon conquered, and ordered the Eclipse fighter carrier elsewhere. A garrison had been left behind with a contingent of five Burnout atmospheric superiority fighters and the requisite number of hoverturrets and tanks for suppression and domination.

The Command Outpost was a proud name for something it clearly wasn't: On Papetoon, the Primals worked in a base that was little more than a hastily erected shack. Equipment was spread out all over creation with only a marginal degree of sense, and clusters of wires made footing difficult. On other worlds, the Primals had taken the time to adapt existing structures to their needs, or invest in better setups.

Ground Commander Stahlwark pulled a gray hair out of his chin fur and made a face. Here on Papetoon, they gave him a shed. It was a blow to his pride, as was the assignment. Posted to a backwater world, while the entire Primal Armada struggled against the Fleet and the Arwings of Corneria? It was unforgiveable. But he wasn't about to question orders in front of his men. Most of them were rookies, raw recruits. They had been given this assignment to shape them up, give them a taste of combat and Primal tactics against odds more favorable for their survival. A tried and true method of training their soldiers.

His soldiers were getting lazy, and that would not do.

He marched over to the "Communications center," little better than a few monitors and radio hookups to a control panel. The trooper manning the station was awake, but clearly not alert. He was slouched forward slightly, the weight leaning on his arms on either side of the console.

Stahlwark slammed his hand into the back of the man's chair, and the black-furred trooper came to attention with a strangled gasp. "Sir!"

Stahlwark gave him one of his patented death stares. "I do hope, for your sake, that there is nothing to report."

The trooper began to answer, thought better of it, and quickly checked his monitors to confirm. "No, sir. Nothing to report. No messages from Homeworld Command, and the work camp commanders had nothing unusual in their last update."

"I see." The Commander quietly folded his arms behind him. "And…no word from our search parties?"

"I…Uh, no. No, sir."

Stahlwark leaned in until his breath made the fur on the trooper's forehead rustle. "And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

The soldier swallowed loudly. "I can…I can try to reach them, sir. Maybe they just forgot to check in."

"Or maybe those refugees we sent them after put up more of a fight than we expected. I would like to know for sure." Stahlwark pulled himself back up straight. "Make the call, and inform me by radio when they pass the word along."

Stahlwark returned to his chair and accessed the local battlenet. A few quick commands brought up the last reported status of all his military assets: On standby, save for the unit of tanks deployed to locate and destroy local resistance troops.

He scowled at the status of the five Burnouts, located at what was left of the single airbase on the planet, sixty Cornerian kilometers distant. That status had not changed in three days.

"They're getting lazy." He growled.

"Who is, sir?"

"Those damn fighter pilots." Stahlwark drummed his fingers angrily. "They should be on patrol, or at least practicing maneuvers. I should bring them all up on charges."

"Before the _Ionus_ was recalled, Fleet Captain Hominus left us a warning." The officer on duty reminded his superior. "They lost quite a few low altitude drones to infantry units during the push. Perhaps the Burnout flight lead is simply guarding his resources."

"Or using the advisory to laze about without guilt. If we're attacked, Geode Flight is our best defense."

The officer shook his head. "I respect your prudence, sir, but there is no tactical importance to this planet. Why would the Cornerians bother with it?"

"Perhaps merely to stir up trouble." Stahlwark suggested softly. He leaned back in his seat and tried to listen to the reassurances of his men, rather than the sudden twisting in his stomach.

* * *

_78,652 km above Papetoon_

Warp gate travel, such as between the established gateway nodes throughout Lylat, was instantaneous and often jarring to the unwary. By contrast, an FTL flight through subspace, including the end, was a more prolonged, smooth transition. One moment, the two flights of Arwings were coming up on a blur in the blue and violet tunnel they traveled down, and the next, Papetoon stood ahead of them, surrounded by the stars and bathed in the light of Solar and Lylus.

A notification icon flashed in the corner of Rourke's HUD, indicating that the six Arwings had re-established their optical communications. It was a precaution that he and Captain Hound had agreed on, not knowing what kind of force would be waiting to meet them.

"Okay, everybody. Check your radars. Milo, do a frequency sweep."

"On it, lieutenant." The laid back raccoon replied.

Not to be outdone by Starfox's analyst, Damer Ostwind brought up his own specialized programs. They had been hastily reinstalled in the Model K he'd been given back on Corneria, and it took him a while to reroute the functions. He made a note to fix the shortcuts the next time they put in. "While you've got your ear to the ground, Granger, I'm going to go ahead and do an atmospheric horizon check."

"Hey, whatever floats your boat." Milo laughed at the squirrel. "I didn't think we'd started the competition yet."

"Quiet, both of you." Captain Hound barked out. "Don't forget we're in enemy territory. Mouths shut and eyes sharp!"

Things stayed quiet for a bit, save for the hum of their thrusters through the vibrating hulls. Milo and Damer finished their scans with chastened effort.

"I've got no movement in orbit or high atmosphere for this side of the planet." Damer announced.

"Radio chatter's pretty bare as well. I do have a single outgoing subspace transceiver array in standby, but nothing else is broadcasting with enough reach to get out to here."

"Where's that transceiver array located?" Captain Hound asked. "Are they using the one at Bayfield?"

"Negative." The raccoon shook his head. "Bayfield Air Base is dark. Looks like they brought one of their own with them. My guess is, we follow it in, it'll lead us right to their headquarters."

"Hopefully, we catch 'em with their pants down." Wallaby suggested. "I mean, why would anybody want to attack _this_ place?"

"Because it's here." Rourke finished grimly. He triggered the boosters on his Seraph and screamed ahead of their formation, belching blue and white fire behind him. A half second later, the other five Arwings followed suit.

* * *

_Katina Airspace_

"Now remember, Terrany, continued use of the Godsight Pods while Merged significantly raises your Synch ratio. Be sure you're keeping an eye on it."

_Dr. Bushtail loved to remind her of things she already knew, but the white-furred vixen let it slide without comment. Inside the blank shared space of her mindscape, KIT smirked. "Now if that had been me, I would've let fly with a comeback."_

_ "Looks like I'm not you." Terrany offered a thin smile and glanced back to the camera feeds from the Godsight Pods stationed around the exercise area. Each provided a window of a different region, giving her a total picture of the battlefield most commanders would kill for. In the training simulation she was in, the goal was simple._

**Locate and destroy a series of radio beacons in the skies being kept aloft by balloons at various altitudes.** _Their radar returns were minimal, which prevented lock-on and even directional guidance. Only line of sight laserfire would down them, and only the Godsight Pods would help her find them all._

_ And somehow in this course of events, Dr. Bushtail wanted her to get close to 90 percent Synch without ending up a vegetable. Easier said than done, but Terrany had been logging __**hours**__ of Merge Mode over the past three days. Each time the five minute limiter kicked KIT's electrical fingers out of her brain, the pain lingered._

_ It had, however, subsided from an armory full of daggers to a more tolerable throbbing. Terrany hoped that meant she was getting used to it. She had no desire to slip into another coma. She had even less desire to be declared an unfit Arwing pilot. _

_ The first set was coming into range. First sighted by Godsight Five, the group of ten balloons was loosely clustered around 22,000 meters up._

_**"Targets located. Commencing attack." **__She nosed up towards them and her forward-looking camera finally brought the first of the dusty red balloons into view. Terrany kept the Seraph on its forward course, then banked the fighter on its split right wings. The first Nova laserblast, glowing at a reduced power output to match hyper laserfire, seared clean through the center of the balloon. Gravity took hold of the connected beacon, pulling it down to a screaming, flattening demise. The Seraph pirouetted about, knocking the other nine beacons out of the sky after another four seconds._

_**"Targets neutralized." **_

"We copy that, Terrany. I'm showing your Synch ratio at 84 percent. De-Merge for a bit, let's see how you feel."

* * *

The Seraph's secondary wings retracted, and the G-Negator pods closed up. About the time that the twin plasma thrusters roared back to life, Terrany found herself fully back in her body, dipped out of the Merge Mode.

She rubbed at her eyes, a sudden fatigue welling up behind them.

_"Wild Fox to Terrany. How you feeling?"_

Terrany thought about it for a moment, realizing that her head only throbbed about as much as it did after Supra-G maneuvering. "I'm…I'm fine, I think. Doc, how're my readings?"

_"According to the EEG data your helmet sensors are feeding me, you _are_ fine. Better than fine, actually. Your neural activity is decreasing at a much more incremental pace than it has in past runs. How's the pain?"_

"Hardly there."

_"Well, I'll be. It seems your brain has figured out how to program itself for gradual neural deceleration."_

"Kind of like slowing down instead of hitting the retros." Terrany realized. "Easier for a pilot to handle."

_"I wouldn't have used a flying analogy, but…yes, that's essentially it." _Bushtail harrumphed. _"How's the other thing?"_

Though Terrany hadn't been concentrating on it, she suddenly heard KIT's thoughts, felt his feelings. He was pleased with the situation, but…

"Kit's thinking that we should stop talking and start shooting again."

_"Aw, damn, did I think that out loud?" _KIT exclaimed. _"Seriously, doc, she's fine. Let's keep pushing on already."_

_"Hmph." _Bushtail didn't sound entirely convinced, but he relented after a bit. _"Fine. Continue with the exercise, McCloud. I'll keep monitoring your vitals."_

Not needing to be asked twice, Terrany let her concentration slide into the bizarre boundary of flesh and machine, rejoining KIT. The transitions themselves were coming easier as well…and faster.

Her Seraph fanned out its wings once more, and sliced through the skies to the next target cluster.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

Dr. Bushtail had been given a temporary station in the _Wild Fox_'s command center, and he was using it rather effectively thanks to some quick intra-ship relay rerouting by ROB and the repair crews. All the programs and vitals that the Medical Bay captured were being forwarded to his console, and sitting by the others made it easier to coordinate how she was doing mentally with how she was doing aeronautically.

General Grey lingered behind the simian physician's chair, nodding with what might have been a smile had his unlit corncob pipe not been stuck in his teeth. "Not bad, doctor, not bad at all. We may have to give you a permanent berth up here."

"Don't count on it." Bushtail groused, making sure he was off-mike. "I have no interest in staying up here. It's just temporary while this ship's being repaired."

"Could be a long temporary, Sherman." Grey stepped back and went to his command chair. "Sasha, how's the chatter today?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." The bat at communications squeaked. She put a paw on her headset and looked at him. "The Katina news outlets are holding to the off-planet blackout."

"Which will only keep us safe in the short term." Grey reminded her. He knew the progress of the ship rebuild as well as Wyatt or his grandfather Slippy did. "Just stay dialed in, and keep an ear to the skies. If there's a hint of a Primal signal…"

"You'll be the first to know." She reassured him.

Over at the radar station, Hogsmeade made a soft squeal of surprise. "Huh?"

Grey could have jumped down the porcine operator's throat over his outburst, but he waited for Hogsmeade to collect his thoughts and speak first. After a bit, Hogsmeade motioned at him and hit his console's intership radio.

"Uh, general, I think I've got something on the scanner."

The message came through the speakers on the sides of the command chair's headrest, a design feature that would let the ship's commander hear vital data without a need for screaming. Strangely enough, nobody had felt the urge to use the system consistently.

Grey wandered over and leaned over Hogsmeade's shoulder. "What do you have?"

The pig tapped his spherical overlay, zooming out to an image of Katina. "Our own sensor array is down, so I'm tapped into the planetary early warning network. I think that I caught a blip on an inbound course, but I'm not sure."

"I'm really beginning to hate being stuck on the ground." Grey groused. "The MIDS would have figured this out by now. What's your best guess?"

"Well, the radar return suggests something about 15 meters in diameter, which would be a decent sized meteoroid…or it might be a ship."

"If it is a ship, it's not broadcasting an IF/F code." Sasha added quickly. "It's silence out there."

Grey removed his pipe, showing the barest flash of sharp teeth. "All right. You said inbound. How inbound?"

Hogsmeade whistled over in the direction of ROB, and the ship's mobile A.I. looked over. "Hey, robot."

"The name is ROB." The automaton corrected in his droning voice. "Do you require assistance?"

"Pull the radar data from my station and plot a trajectory for this unidentified object."

"Very well." The red monochromatic visor on ROB's head glowed brighter for a moment as he pulled in the information. "Running calculations. Please hold."

Seven very long seconds later, ROB turned and looked at General Grey. "Trajectory indicates that the object is on a close approach with Katina. Speed is inconsistent with known Lylat System meteors of similar size."

"It could be a Primal probe." Executive Officer Dander guessed.

"Or it could be a scout out snooping for our location. The Primals know we took a bad hit in our last engagement." Grey scowled and tapped his communicator. "_Wild Fox_ to Terrany. Sorry to interrupt your exercises, McCloud, but we've got a problem."

_**"I'm surprised it took us this long to bump into one."**_ She answered in her odd, Merged voice.

* * *

_Papetoon Primal Command Outpost_

The radar operator blinked when six blips appeared on his high altitude radar. He frowned and tapped the screen, thinking it to be a mistake. The blips remained. A quick check of their relative position gave him a direction to look in, and so he turned away from his screen and looked out the window, squinting against the glare of the twin suns.

He could see the trails of fire that they made passing through the atmosphere. "Oh, shhhh…"

Commander Stahlwark noticed his trooper's sudden odd behavior and glanced out the window as well. The Primal felt his blood drain out of him. "Are those ours?" He asked the communications chair. His throat went dry on him, and his voice cracked at the end.

"They aren't transmitting Primal security codes." The black-haired Primal stammered. "No, they aren't."

Stahlwark could have roared in anger at his suddenly validated paranoia, but military discipline won out. "Contact Primal Command. Inform them we are under attack."

He looked to the radar operator. "What kind of ships are they? Cornerian attack frigates?"

"No, Commander, they're too small." The operator went back to his station and brought up the visual telescope. Using a series of filters, he eliminated the bulk of the atmospheric flare around the descending craft to get a better look at the silhouettes.

The Primal let out a cry of dismay and stumbled backwards, falling to the ground. "No! It can't be!"

"What?" Stahlwark grabbed the man by his uniform's collar and hoisted him up to his feet. "Damn it, soldier, _what are they?"_

Wide eyed, having seen his death, the Primal uttered the name of it.

"Arwings."

Stahlwark shoved the trooper away from him and pointed to the radio operator. "Get that signal out _now!_"

Scrambling at the controls, the radio operator began to dial out a signal, activating the subspace array from standby. The warmup would take twenty seconds.

The Arwings would be on them not long after.

* * *

_Papetoon_

_Mid-Atmosphere_

With the heat of re-entry burning around them, the ionization of superheated air against their shielding made their standard radios worthless. The optical communications relays that they had kept up and running cut through the interference perfectly.

Even with the ship rattling his teeth, Milo had kept his ODAI monitoring the Primal subspace relay. A sudden spike of energy output drew his interest.

"Heads up, folks. The Primals just noticed us knocking on their front door. It looks like they're trying to make a call out of here."

"And we don't have jamming equipment on these things." Dana complained.

"Quit your whining. It's got damn near everything else on it." Rourke said. The wolf tightened his grip on the control stick. "Coming out of re-entry in ten seconds. Everybody, set your target marker for that subspace relay and ready a smart bomb. We're going to get their attention."

Re-entry took far less time on the much smaller Papetoon than it did for a larger planet like Corneria or Katina. The heat around them dissipated quickly, and the shields quit flaring in protest. With Milo's guidance, the six Arwings bore down on the subspace relay and its adjoining facility.

"Set your target. Give yourself enough room to pull out of the dive." Captain Hound warned them. "It'd be bad form to turn a multi-billion credit fighter into a mach-speed asteroid."

In Milo's cockpit, his ODAI spoke up. _"Pilot Granger, I have intercepted the Primal transmission. They are just beginning to establish outbound contact."_

"Put it through for me." The raccoon ordered.

His targeting reticule lined up on the massive telescopic dish that the Primals were using as their off-planet relay. He noticed the others spacing themselves out as they went into the rush of their dive bombing run, being sure that they wouldn't smash into each other on the breakaway.

The distance clicked down, and his headset crackled with the Primal frequency.

_"Primal Command, this is Papetoon Base! Primal Command, come in!"_

_ "Papetoon Base, this is Primal Command." _

8,000 meters.

_"What is your condition, over?"_

6,000 meters.

Milo's eyes gained a clarity he rarely called on, and his breathing slowed until he could feel his pulse in his fingertip, blurring his vision on every tick.

5,000 meters.

_"We are under attack!"_

3,000 meters. The targeting reticule went red. Lock-on established.

Milo pressed the bomb release and broke away, his entire body tensing under the pull of inertia that his G-Negator pods couldn't completely erase in standard operating mode. The skies of the small planet went dark on the edges of his vision. Underneath him, following its course, the bead of red light containing the high explosive Cornite charge streaked for the dish, ripping a visible trail through the air as it went. It was joined by the other five, each an arrow that burned a hole through the sky from the heavens.

_"We are being assaulted by six Arwi…"_

Milo's canopy darkened to protect his eyes from the sudden red glare of light that tainted everything around him. He inverted his Arwing and glanced down. An enormous red spherical fireball had obliterated the dish, and a large portion of the command base besides.

_"The Primal radio transmission has been cut off."_

Milo smiled and leveled his Seraph off, bleeding away the speed their blistering re-entry course had lent their attack. "They got out just enough to make the Primal overlords start panicking."

"Good job, everyone." Captain Hound congratulated the two flights as they pulled back together. "Cleanest bomb run I've seen in a while."

* * *

_Papetoon Primal Command_

If the sudden static that was instantaneous with the bright red flash wasn't enough of an indicator, the heatblast that blew out every window in the outpost made things very clear to Commander Stahlwark and his men that they were not only in deep trouble, but they were on their own. The blast had hit their subspace array's dish, and he had little doubt that there was nothing left of it.

Stahlwark struggled to pick himself off of the ground, a loud ringing in his ears and his eyes still half squinted from the blinding light. An unpleasant sensation ran along his back, and it took him a moment to realize that a part of his uniform had caught on fire and was charring the hair underneath.

"Damn them." Ignoring the shards of window glass embedded in his forearm, he used a nearby chair to pull himself up to his feet. Its occupant was dead, a very large and jagged piece of glass shoved through his forehead at an odd angle and his face glazed over and ashen. Angrily, Stahlwark shoved the trooper out of the seat and put what was left of his vision on the radio operator. "Do we still have the local battlenet online?"

Injured, but still active, the trooper at the communications console nodded. "I'm calling Geode Flight now."

"Get those sorry pilots in the air, NOW." Stahlwark snarled. He tore off his uniform and threw the burning fabric away from him, then made his way to his chair. "I've got to get a hold of our prison camps. Doubtless that they're the next target."

* * *

"Hey, lieutenant? Captain?" Milo had one hand set against the side of his helmet's headset, and he frowned as he listened in. "I've got some activity on the radio band. The Primals can't call home, but they're sounding the alert across the planet."

Captain Hound grunted. "Patch it through to us, Sergeant Granger. Let's hear what they're saying."

_"…repeat, we have confirmed Arwings on planet. Six of them! Ground Commander Stahlwark orders you and the rest of Geode Flight to get airborne, now!"_

"Hell of a thing, this translation program." Rourke remarked.

"Yeah, it's amazing what you can do when you've got an entire ship's database at your mercy." Dana joked, referring to the captured Primal vessel won at the battle of Corneria City.

_"Roger that, command. Geode Flight is on its way. Estimate intercept in six minutes."_

"We could do a whole lot of damage to these pricks in six minutes." Damer grinned. "Permission to bomb the shit out of what's left of this base, captain?"

"Is there any evidence of hidden munitions racking or any surprises?" His canine superior huffed.

"Uh, no, not really. It's a shed on a hill."

"Then it can wait." Captain Hound denied him. "Anything else on the radios, Milo?"

"I've got a second outbound call…no, it's not a call. It's a broadcast." The raccoon fiddled with his operations touchscreen and brought up the second transmission.

_"…ahlwark to all prison camps. We have been attacked by six Arwings. Highly suspect that it's Starfox. Lock down your bases and implement emergency erasure procedures. We have lost our subspace array, and any hope of rescue or reinforcements with it. Fight well, and fulfill your duty. The Lord of Flames be with you all."_

"And that's why we don't blow up command facilities unless absolutely necessary." Captain Hound harrumphed. "Those bastards put the inhabitants of Papetoon into prison camps."

"Not just that, captain." Wallaby called out shakily. "He said…erasure procedures. Does he mean what I think he does?"

"If you mean, did he authorize his troopers to slaughter their prisoners, I'd say you're right." Rourke snarled. "These Primals have shown no hesitation in killing. We're all just vermin to them. We've got to find those prison camps and stop them, _now_."

"Everybody, switch to normal radio channels." Captain Hound ordered. "Spread out and go hunting. If you run into trouble, call for help."

"A solo mission." Dana Tiger mused. "We haven't done one of those yet."

The six Arwings broke formation—as well as optical communication—and flew out in different directions.

"All right, Starfox." Rourke O'Donnell called out, using an unencrypted radio channel. "Let's go find us some prisoners to rescue."

* * *

_Bayfield Air Base_

Geode Flight was far from a top tier air combat squadron. Against the likes of the elite pilots, they were routinely ranked several levels lower in performance. Still, they could outperform most drone aircraft, occasionally surprised more talented or experienced crews, and never stopped trying. Being assigned to Papetoon as an honor guard was a slap in the face, even if they were only flying Burnouts instead of the more versatile and more expensive Helions. In atmosphere, the Burnout fighter had a marginally better flight performance than its spacefaring cousin, and Geode Flight, as a permanent Helion group, had always tried to take their ships to the limit.

That performance had been slipping the last few days. While the rest of the Primal Armada continued the war, Geode Flight had been sitting on the ground, following the advice of intelligence that ground-based guided missiles carried by mobile resistance troops were too great of a hazard to risk routine flight ops.

Now, a full scale alert was sending the Geode Squadron into the teeth of an enemy that another Burnout flight, Tinder Squadron, had been annihilated by. Arwings had come to Papetoon. The ground crews hastily pulled the Burnouts out from the hangars on the bombed out airbase that were still standing, dragging them to the runway for a hasty launch.

Captain Zovius, the flight's lead, ran as if the Lord of Flames Himself was burning at his heels. A technician was leaning over the cockpit of his ship, checking the aircraft's vitals one last time. Satisfied with the result, he jumped down from the ladder just as the commanding pilot reached him.

"All systems are go, sir. Good hunting."

Geode 1's eyebrow twitched, but there was no other sign of emotion. The technician stepped aside, and he climbed up the ladder quickly. He pulled the helmet off of his seat just before his backside landed in it, and he had it on his head before the canopy was halfway closed.

The engines were already warmed up, and the fuel cells were at maximum capacity. Geode 1 activated his repulsors, lifting his ship up off of the runway's surface. A pull of another lever retracted the landing gear. Turning the control stick every which way reassured him that the Burnout's control surfaces were functioning properly. He glanced one time over his shoulder to see the other members of his squadron performing their own checks or climbing their ladders, then nodded and looked ahead.

He pushed the throttle to full power and shot down the battered runway, the repulsors bouncing him over the craters until he achieved launch speed. A pull back on the stick took him into the air, and he disabled the repulsors as his engines took control.

"Geode 1 is up." He announced, leveling off at 500 meters. He checked his weapons display: Laser cannon capacitors at full, and his standard loadout of six NIFT-24 "Slammer" missiles were hot.

"Geode 2 is airborne." Behind Geode 1's starboard wing, another Burnout righted itself. The others followed in strangled pattern over the next twenty seconds.

"Everybody do a weapons check. I don't want to go against Arwings with any of you having a jammed gun."

"All systems clear." Geode 3 reported.

"Same here, sir." Geode 2 seconded.

"Heh…like it makes much of a difference." Geode 5 glumly complained. "These are Arwings, the ships that took down the Armada in that nebula. A single Arwing iced all of Tinder Squadron over the homeworld. What kind of a chance do we stand?"

"A fair one, if you keep your head in the game, Geode 5." Geode 1 reprimanded him harshly. "Look at your radars. Those Arwings have split up. They're flying alone. We can meet them with superior numbers."

"Orders, sir?" Geode 2 asked.

Geode 1 took a look at his scope. "Four of them are going to outpace us before we can catch up with them. We should be able to intercept the one heading west and the one going southwest. Geode 2, 3, and 4, group up and take heading 065 to meet up with the westbound one. Geode 5, since you expressed some doubts about our chances, you'll be flying on my wing. If you shut up and keep your head screwed on, you might just learn something today. Are there any questions?"

Nobody replied, so Geode 1 engaged his afterburners. "Then move to intercept, and good hunting."

The five Burnouts broke apart into their two groups and scattered. Following their radars, they blazed towards their destiny.

* * *

Milo's course took him directly south of the Primal's command base, and he paid more attention to what was ahead of him, rather than what fell behind in his wake.

"Come on, Primals." He teased them over the open radio channel. "I know you're out here. Where's the boasting? Or do you only talk about bathing in our blood and making shag carpets out of us when you think you have the advantage?" Milo heard nothing for several moments, then a weak radio signal crackled in his ear.

_"Unidentified voice, declare yourself, over."_

Milo blinked. The responder didn't have the same gruff air that most Primals did, and his crisp words indicated a military training.

_"Signal traced. Come right 2 degrees." _His ODAI offered stiffly. Milo turned his Arwing in the speaker's direction and tapped his squawk button. "Sergeant Granger of the Starfox Team. Who's this?"

_"Lieutenant Buck Fowler of the Papetoon Resistance. Did you say __**Starfox?**__ That unit hasn't existed for years."_

"It wasn't needed until now, lieutenant. You SDF?"

_"Some of us were, sergeant. Some were insurrectionists, and some are just civilians trying to defend ourselves from these Primals. We're all together in this mess now."_

"And I hear that there's some prison camps that need dealing with." Milo said. He was coming closer to the source; their signal was stronger.

_"We've been trying to find a way to break our people out, but these Primals keep the camps too well defended. They've got some tanks we haven't been able to put a dent in."_

"My team is looking to shut them down, Buck. We intercepted a transmission that they're torching their tracks, and will probably kill everyone if they get the chance. Any help you could give us would be appreciated.

_"Consider it done, Granger. For this mission, I'll even be able to activate the other cells, hit them all at once. You tell the rest of your squadron to clear the way, we'll do the rescuing."_

"Just how many of you are there?" Milo asked.

Lieutenant Fowler chuckled. _"Enough of us. And we're all ready for some payback. Prepare to receive the prison coordinates."_

Milo's ODAI faithfully recorded the three map coordinates that the Resistance leader gave him. Milo leaned back in his seat and tried not to think on how surreal the entire exchange was.

Ahead of him, the stretch of forest he had been flying over gave way to open soil and spotted plains. A scattering of tiny figures was clustered around camouflaged tents and utility vehicles. He dove down and rolled slowly on his low-level flyby, buzzing the group. Not Primals, but Papetoonians. They waved at him as he finished the aileron roll.

_"Creator above!"_ Lieutenant Fowler cried out over the radio, and Milo could have sworn he recognized the red-warbled bird in the crowd. _"You're flying an Arwing and…and that crest! You weren't kidding! Starfox has finally come home!"_

"Get your Resistance fighters mobilized." Milo said, keeping his answers short and to the point. He put off the feeling of unease that had been building in him since they'd arrived on planet and switched to the encrypted radio frequency assigned for Starfox's use. With luck, the Primals here wouldn't crack the code. And even if they did…well, it wouldn't save them.

"Milo to all Arwings. I just made contact with some survivors of the Primal invasion. They're claiming to be part of a larger Resistance, and offered their help in freeing the prisoners. I'm transmitting the coordinates of the three prison facilities now." He punched a button, and the nav markers were sent out over the frequency.

_"Are you serious, Milo?" _Dana exclaimed. _"Great work! I'm feeding them to my ODAI now."_

_ "Oh, sure. Gloat that you have an onboard super AI who eliminates most of the need to read a map and think for yourself." _Captain Hound said, as bitter as ever. _"I'm afraid that I won't be able to render an assist for the prison takedowns…I've got three inbound bogeys on me, and they're probably fighters."_

_ "You need a hand with them, sir?" _Damer Ostwind asked. _"I can double back and…"_

_ "That's a __**negative**__, squirrel." _Hound barked. _"Your first priority is neutralizing whatever defenses those prisons have so the local insurgents can get our people out of there."_

_ "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I've got two bogeys coming for me as well." _Rourke declared. _"Looks like they want to play with the flight leads, Lars."_

_ "Then play rough." _Hound told the lead pilot of Starfox.

In his own cockpit, knowing that the dogfights to come were out of his hands, Milo checked his map with the overlaid nav markers. Damer and Wallaby were closing in on the one to the north, Dana was headed east to the second, and he was in perfect position to land a strike on the prison center to the south. He raised his nose to gain altitude and hit his boosters.

"And now we get to play the hero." The raccoon mused, snorting softly.

_"Did you say something, pilot Granger?" _

"Nothing important, ODAI. Just an old soldier rambling to himself. Keep your electronic eye on the ground. Get ready to Merge on my mark."

_"I am always ready."_

* * *

_Western Engagement Zone_

Captain Hound could have wagered on retreating back from the three inbounds, but that notion had quickly chafed against everything he typically stood for. Instead, he pulled into a lazy circle, gaining altitude and putting the light of Lylus behind him. They would easily pick him up on radar—Arwings weren't made for stealth, after all—but taking a dominant stance would give the Primals pause.

He switched over to an open frequency and sent out his message for them to hear. "Hello, boys. Decided to come up and play, did you?"

_"You're confident, Starfox." _A Primal radioed back. _"You'll regret coming here, though."_

"I'm not Starfox, I just fly with them." Hound retorted. "And the only thing I regret is not bringing a bigger gun. Or more explosives."

The Primal laughed. _"Ha! You admit you're not a member of Starfox, the most feared fighter pilots known to the Primals? It would have been better if you had lied, vermin."_

His radar beeped at him. Their search radars had tagged him, and were zeroing in for missile lock. It also put them close enough his own scanners could get a bead on them as well, and their designations came up on his HUD.

Burnouts, atmospheric superiority fighters. Tough little buggers, but manageable. He'd read the action reports from the strike that O'Donnell and his team did on Venom. Terrany had shot down an entire squadron by herself…_without_ using Merge Mode. That detail alone had impressed him, but gave him reassurance as well.

If a McCloud could take down five on her lonesome going at half strength, he'd be damned if he couldn't smoke these three bogeys going all out in his Model K.

Hound grinned and lined up his reticule in the middle of their formation. Not bothering to charge his laser and gain a lock, he dumb-fired a smart bomb at them. With the glare of sunlight behind him, it might catch them off their guard.

_"Inbound projectile! Break, break!"_

_"Geode 3 breaking left!"_

_ "4 breaking right!"_

Hound chuckled, watching the red fireball of his smart bomb chase after their exhaust contrails. "Why would I lie about who I was? It doesn't take a member of Starfox to shoot you pests down."

_"You'll pay for your insolence. Geode Beta, engage!"_

The three Burnouts closed in on him, and his radar warning chime kicked on. The ship on his right had fired a missile, and it was closing fast.

Captain Hound gripped the stick tighter and dove on the leader of the formation, strafing his fighter. Amidst the cursing over the intercepted radio chatter, Hound kept to his dive and burned synthesized hydrogen, tearing for the hard deck below. The missile couldn't turn fast enough to match his descent, and the lock-on had been a glancing gaze to begin with. It sailed through his jetwash and kept going, a dud unable to get on target.

_"Missile shot trashed. Get on him!" _The Burnouts dove down after him, jockeying for the kill.

"You boys want to dance?" Lars Hound growled, feeling the adrenaline starting to pump through his blood. He jinked in his dive, not even bothering to throw up the deflective barrier an aileron roll afforded. Laser shots shot past him, failing to strike.

"I'll lead."

* * *

_Southwest Engagement Zone_

While Captain Hound had to do his frequency changes by hand with his systems touchscreen console, Rourke had an easier time of adjusting. The gray wolf flexed his paw once around the control stick, popping his claws briefly.

"ODAI, put us on an open channel. I want to talk to them."

**"Risky, boss, but you've got it. Whaddya want to say to them?"**

Rourke smirked and activated his headset microphone. "Okay, inbounds. I know you're coming for me, so why don't we go ahead and make some identifications? I like to know who I'm shooting down."

_"You're outnumbered, Arwing. And right now, you fly against Squadron Captain Lavitz Zovius, leader of Geode Squadron."_

"Oh, boy. I get to go up against your flight lead? Lucky me." Rourke's grin went a little wider. "I'll try to make this quick, then."

**"I've got a bead on them, boss. They're Burnouts." **

"Geez, these things again?" Rourke rolled his eyes. "Terrany smoked that entire squadron over Venom. We're not gonna have any problem at all."

**"You want to Merge for this one?"**

"Probably should, but it seems like a waste."

**"Restraint's not one of your defining qualities, boss."**

Rourke's grin went fully feral, and he snorted. "How well you know me."

The two Burnouts closed on him, and when they were within six kilometers, both achieved lock-on and fired a missile. Unfazed, Rourke let his consciousness blend with ODAI and felt the Arwing open up around him. The wings became his arms, and a louder, larger set of fangs glimmered angrily.

_"What in the…Sir, that Arwing just changed!"_

_"Don't let him faze you, Geode 5. He's trying to game you."_

_**"Apparently it's working." **_Rourke responded. The missiles could cause him no end of grief, and being in atmosphere would limit the kind of supra-maneuvering Merge Mode was capable of. Still, the edge was enough on its own.

He could see the two inbound missiles clearly; each a sliver of metal shining in the sky, lit up by radar, infrared, and visual sensors. With the heightened senses of Merge Mode, his hunter's instinct was increased. He could almost catch the arrow…

Rourke settled instead for strafing the air in front of their flight path with Nova laserfire. The streaks of superhot white ionized gas tore through the nose and casing of each shot, and two fireballs engulfed the scrapped remains.

Not giving either a chance to react, he turned his guns on the Burnouts and charged the Nova lasers. Five lock-on tags swarmed the fighters; two on one, three on the other. He fired, and five white homing Novabursts shot out towards his prey.

_"Evasive!"_ Zovius cried out. The two Burnouts banked hard to try and escape their destruction, and one succeeded in barely avoiding the two Novabursts chasing it before they exploded with fiery rage. His counterpart, a little slower to react, avoided one and was caught dead-on between his other two chasers. His scream was brief, strangled, and muffled by the sounds of his dying fighter. What survived of the attack, a charred, torn-up lump of barely recognizable metal fell to the ground below like a stone, trailing acrid black smoke all the way.

_"You bastard!"_

_**"Well, you got that right, at least." **_Rourke countered. The surviving Burnout, Geode 1 by callsign, turned back on him and triggered its afterburners to build up speed. Rourke gave it a moment of thought, then de-Merged. The wings of his Seraph closed up again, and ODAI retreated back into the confines of the ship's electronics. The twin thrusters kicked back on, and Rourke soared towards him as well.

"Now it's just you and me, Lavitz. Let's see if you've got what it takes."

_"You'll choke on those words when I vape you." _Geode 1 vowed.

Rourke's warning alarm kicked on as Geode 1 tried for missile lock again. Flying nose to nose, the two fighters barreled towards each other, waiting to see who would flinch first.

* * *

"So I guess our 'Wings can do this thing where they pick up stuff as they fly by it?" Wallaby said, once he and Damer had cleared some distance from the others.

The squirrel grunted. "The Draw Effect. You've never heard of it before?"

"It was a little before my time." The rookie replied.

"Well, it's a costly upgrade to the shield emitters that allows for…Never mind, it just draws things in." Damer rolled his eyes. "Considering how much a Model K costs to begin with, I'm not surprised you've never dealt with it. But you know supply rings? The Draw Effect lets you grab them and repair your shields on the go, rather than parking it and pulling out a feed cable."

"Did the original Starfox Team use the Draw Effect a lot?"

"You'd have to ask Slippy, or that ROB robot to be sure, but I'd guess yes." Damer checked his radar and whistled to get his wingman's attention. "Hey, I'm picking up some scattered ground clutter up ahead. You seeing it?"

Wallaby brought up his scopes. "Yeah, I'm getting it too. Hard returns…that means metal, right?"

"And does metal really belong in a forest?" Damer asked.

"Heh…" The marsupial grinned. "Do you want the honors?"

"Negative. You make the flyby, I'll hold back. Once you confirm the targets…"

"You burn down some trees." Wallaby sighed. "Why do you get to have all the fun?"

"Seniority." Damer winked at his camera. "Make it happen."

Damer stalled his Arwing to a near-total stop, and Wallaby blasted ahead, breaking the sound barrier with a _thump_.

The marsupial pilot inverted his fighter and banked slowly until the targets were set to pass underneath him. It seemed at first that he was looking at a convoy of ground vehicles, but that first assumption was quickly invalidated when the tank at the end of the line, out of place in the undergrowth, lobbed a plasma bomb at the trucks ahead of it. The vehicles swerved, and the bomb engulfed a patch of greenery harmlessly.

Wallaby righted himself a half-kilometer past the target point and whistled. Closer now, he could see a trail of faint smoke plumes left in the wake of the chase.

"I've got a tank chasing after a convoy of APC, Damer. Looks like the Primals are hunting down Resistance fighters."

"Not for long." Damer snapped. "I'm coming in hot."

Wallaby switched to an unencrypted frequency, knowing what was coming. "Hey! Any Papetoonian Resistance on this channel, you'll want to take cover. That tank's deadmarked!"

He got no response, but the Resistance troopers below had clearly heard the message. The smaller dots on his radar picked up speed and dispersed in every direction, leaving the large blip that was the Primal tank to spin in a confused circle. It had little time to decide which fleeing target to pursue, because Damer's Arwing came screaming in. The green glowing laserburst on his nose detached and rocketed for the tank. The hulk of metal attempted to drive away from it, but the homing laserburst, designed to outmaneuver aerial foes, had no trouble compensating for the much slower enemy. The blast went off on impact, and when the brilliant light dispersed, all that was left was a melted, smoking chassis with a hole burned through it.

Damer's Arwing screamed overhead before banking hard left to come about for kill confirmation.

"I'd say you got him." Wallaby congratulated the specialist, flying back for a look as well. "I thought those things were tougher than that."

"Arwings were designed to take on capital ships." Damer pointed out. "A tank is no trouble."

_"By the Creator, you scrapped his ass!"_ A voice called out on the radio. _"Thanks for the assist, fellas. You really Starfox?"_

"Good news travels fast." Damer smiled. He could make out several vehicles closing in on the clearing created by his attack. "Damer Ostwind of the 21st Arwing Squadron. We fly with Starfox, currently. Happy to help, and sorry we didn't get here sooner. We were headed for the prison camp when we spotted you."

_"Funny, we were headed that way ourselves."_ The Resistance trooper said. _"You two going to clear a path for us?"_

"That's the idea. Drive fast and come in hard. We'll make sure you don't have to worry about the heavy artillery."

_"See you on the ground when this is all over."_

"You've got it, friend." Damer turned his ship around and set off for their targeted prison camp. Wallaby took position on his wing. Behind them, the Resistance caravan they'd rescued motored up and left dust in its wake.

* * *

It felt good getting back in the air again. Dana Tiger could count on one hand the number of things that gave her life meaning, and flying an experimental plane like the X-1 Seraph was listed twice.

Wallaby Preen had flown her baby during their last major engagement at Sector Y, and she had been worried at first that he had screwed it up. That fear was unfounded. The Seraph still handled like a dream, a butterfly compared to a lumbering bear.

**"You seem happy."** Her ODAI remarked, keeping to its pattern of being obvious and sarcastic.

"Just glad to be in my element." Dana explained. "We're coming up on the target installation soon. Are you ready?"

**"I'm currently online, so yes."**

The former test pilot felt her consciousness expand within milliseconds. Just like Dr. Bushtail had predicted, Merging was becoming easier. Now able to see directly through the Seraph's sensors, Dana smiled as the prison compound gave up its secrets. Six guard towers around the hexagonal walls maintained overlapping zones of coverage. A hovering, alien structure floated above the center; likely the prison's administrative center. It also bristled with guns, and by the looks of it, missile launchers as well. She could barely make out the ground beneath the one and a half kilometer wide camp…it was choked with refugees. Prisoners. A single tank patrolled outside the perimeter with two lightly armored escort trucks, all three looking perfectly ready to open fire at a moment's notice.

Actually, that was _exactly_ what they were doing.

As she got closer, Dana could make out even more prisoners being shoved and dragged out of holes dug into the ground and added to the mass of innocents. The Primals were herding their prisoners, intending on destroying them all in a single blaze of gunfire.

Preventing the massacre would require a flawless plan of attack and a level of accuracy that would make Milo sweat. She gave it a quarter seconds' worth of thought before assigning targets, and dropping altitude until she was soaring for the prison at ground level. Thankfully, this prison was surrounded by the flat, mostly barren plains Papetoon was famous for.

The dull hum of the G-Negators and the whistle of the wind over her sleek airframe was whisper quiet compared to the roar her now silent thrusters would have produced. Any sentries who would have been looking out rather than in would have their eyes skyward, expecting an aerial strike.

Dana smiled inside of her technological cocoon and charged her Nova lasers. Five seconds to strike.

* * *

The mood inside the prison was terror, absolute terror. The way the guards were standing, the way that the command bases' guns pointed down from overhead, the few souls not crying out in fear or crushed in the sea of people glanced up and knew death was coming.

And then, to the shock of everyone, a silver-winged ship suddenly appeared above the prison, arms spread wide and glistening in the sunlight.

It hung silent for two heartbeats, then a blinding row of lights along the winds flared and detached. The five flashes of white light wobbled over their heads and smashed into the guard towers, atomizing the posts with searing heat.

Too stunned to scream, the prisoners fell into a hush and stood transfixed as the silvery-white ship swiveled in midair and lanced two laserbolts into the sole remaining guard tower. The Primals who had been herding them to their death gaped, suddenly powerless against the might of the fighter. Finally reacting, the hovering command tower above the prison turned its turrets outside of the walls, firing wildly at the threat. The six-winged ship cartwheeled around the blasts with ease and angled its nose above the platform.

"It's an Arwing!" One of the Papetoonians cried out.

"Doesn't look like no Arwing I've ever seen." A second disagreed.

"No, I'm telling you, that's an Arwing!" The first prisoner, a female ferret insisted. The Arwing, believed or not, fired a glowing projectile into the air, the arc clearly sending it above target.

"Hey, he missed!" One of the grounded Primal soldiers exclaimed.

Then the "Miss" reached a point high above the hovering station and exploded…or imploded. It was hard for them to tell which.

Whatever it did, the Primal prison station began to groan and twist, pieces tore off and were sucked upwards. The entire complex seemed to be falling towards the sky, aiming for a tiny spot of darkness.

Not wasting time, the Arwing charged up another salvo of laserbursts and launched them into the underbelly of the command post. Entire sections of the station's repulsor array and armor went white hot, melted, and vaporized under the attack. Deprived of its weak locomotion, the rest of the station now fell freely towards the dark spot above it. It seemed to crush in on itself, then spiral into the dark dot like a long strand of spaghetti.

A third salvo of white hot laserbursts engulfed what was left of the station, and the black dot exploded in a roar of nuclear flame. Not even ash drifted down to coat the prison.

The Arwing fell silent and held position, a reaper hovering above the silent corpses of its enemies. A single shot smashed into the fighter from behind, a heavy artillery round that made the ship shudder and wobble from the impact. It spun about and took aim at the last of the Primals' hardware; the tank who had fired the cheap shot and the two trucks who had been escorting it.

A spray of white-hot laserbolts cut the vehicles to fiery shreds, and one last burst from its powerful guns obliterated the front gates of the prison compound, leaving tangled steel and concrete dust in its place.

There must have been an external speaker on the hovering Arwing, because a woman's voice spoke with a mechanical cadence. _**"Any surviving Primals, lay down your arms and surrender. These people are leaving, and if you interfere, I'll vape you where you stand. And I won't miss."**_

Not a single Primal soldier within the camp dared to try their luck. Shock rods and sidearms dropped to the ground, and the prisoners looked to one another, realizing at last that their ordeal was over.

The sea of souls began to move, slowly, reverently, towards the destroyed gate. They stepped out and breathed in free air. Some wept. Many of their eyes went misty. All of them looked up to the strange Arwing above and saw the emblem of the red winged fox, and knew who had saved them.

When enough of the freed Papetoonians had cleared the compound and the Primal soldiers had been bound tight by those who hadn't, the Arwing's four outer wings folded into the mains, and it set down inside of the empty courtyard. Engines still hot, the canopy opened, and an orange and black tigress jumped out to an easy landing below.

An elderly mink who had been too choked up to flee stumbled towards the heroine. Uneasy, the tigress stood her ground and looked around the gathering crowd for some hint to the mink's purpose.

The old woman slumped against her and began sobbing, hugging her tight.

"Thank you." The mink managed to say.

The Starfox pilot shut her eyes, hugged the older woman back, and said nothing.

There was nothing she could say.

* * *

Milo put himself high in the air, one and a half kilometers above ground level. He flew in a lazy circle at reduced thrust, keeping the prison compound at the edge of his view. It was twelve kilometers to the south compound: Far enough that they couldn't pick him up visually, and even if they had him on radar, there was little that they could do about it.

At last, the military convoy he'd spoken to earlier burst out of the foliage and onto the open plains. They blazed a trail for the prisons as fast as their vehicles could go, kicking up clouds of dust behind them.

_"We're on our approach, Starfox. Whatever you're going to do, do it now."_

There was no smile from the raccoon, no serene sense of triumph. "I'm starting the attack now."

Milo closed his eyes, took a deep breath…

* * *

_And once more, became nothing more than a flying gun. His only focus, the gunsight. His only concern, the shots remaining before his Pulse Laser capacitors reached overload threshold._

_ At his altitude, the visual sensors of his Seraph showed every aspect of the camp. Hexagonal shape, six guard towers, one heavily armed command facility hovering above._

**The command facility should be your/our primary target, Pilot Granger.**

_As soon as he dropped it, debris and fire would plummet and injure the prisoners. However, his Seraph's enhanced sensor package revealed an unusual solution, as long as he could land his shots on target. Milo wasn't about to miss._

_ He assigned his targets and moved the sight from point to point. This wouldn't be a matter of a single shot. To succeed, he would have to land every blow, in sequence, without hesitating. All this from twelve kilometers out, praying that humidity and refraction wouldn't muddle the pinpoint laser blasts. Precision shooting in atmosphere was different from sniping in the void of space. The Seraph would have to compensate so his shots wouldn't dissipate before reaching the target._

**Adjusting ionic compressor for atmospheric discrepancy. Estimated total firing time: four and a half seconds.**

_Tiny adjustments meant huge distances, and the plane would move by twitches. Either he or the Seraph blinked twice and let out its breath, slowly feeling the pulse of heartbeat or G-Negator blur the sight._

_ He pulled the trigger._

**Shot one.** _Low and to the side of the hovering command station._

**Shot two. **_The other side of the command station, higher up from shot one, targeting a cluster of fuel lines. _

**Shot three, four and five. **_The three guard towers farthest back._

**Shots six, seven, eight: **_The remaining towers._

_Pulse Laser capacitors were one blast from overload, due to the compressed timeframe and rapid firing sequence._

**Elapsed time: 3.78 seconds.**

_Time for the shots to land back on target: Six seconds. _

_ Milo zoomed the scope back for a wider view, watching his handiwork. The hovering command station shuddered under the first hit and listed heavily to the side. The second attack rocked it with a tremendous explosion that shoved it sideways…as Milo had hoped, clear outside of the walls of the prison compound._

_ Even as it lost altitude at a rapid pace, the next Pulse Laser shots gutted the guard towers. The command station crunched into the ground and exploded two seconds after the last tower had been turned into a torch._

_ Given the secondary detonations from the command station's weaponry, the chance of there being Primal survivors from the crash were miniscule._

* * *

The wings of Milo's Seraph folded up, and the raccoon blinked his black eyes to clear them. He'd forgotten to blink during the show, and the dryness was making its angry presence felt.

With a voice that carried the fatigue he suddenly felt, Milo radioed down to the Resistance convoy.

"I've neutralized the Primal hardware. You should have no trouble dealing with the ground forces left inside the camp now."

_"What? You mean those shots you fired…took them out?"_ Catching up to them, the terrifying roar of an explosion finally rattled the Resistance troops. _"Shit!"_

"That's just the sound of the kills, boys. Nothing to worry about." Milo rubbed at his eyes. "Like I said…you should have some smooth sailing now."

_"Lylus." _Lieutenant Fowler swore. _"What kind of pilot are you? Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"_

Silence for several seconds, and then Milo turned his Arwing around. "I've got some wingmen to check up on. You good here?"

_"Yeah, sure. But you sure you don't want to land? I guarantee there'd be some people who'd wanna shake your hand for what you did here today."_

"There'll be time to shake hands once the Primals are kicked back out of Lylat." Milo said coolly. "You save those people. We've still got a job to do."

He killed his radio's receiver and depressed his wing toggle, sweeping the wings back to interceptor position. A burst from his boosters shot him northwards again, on a return trajectory for the Primal command base…as close to a rally point as they had.

_"Pilot Granger, you have disabled our radio."_

"Reactivate it once we're out of range from the convoy behind us."

_"You do not wish them to speak with you?"_

Granger switched the Seraph's controls to autopilot, letting ODAI handle the straight course. He reclined his seat back and covered his eyes with a hand. "You picked up on my no-nonsense, objective-driven style of combat, ODAI. Don't go changing that now by trying to be an emotional counselor. It's not in your programming."

_"I detected an unusual synaptic response in the last sixty seconds. This is anomalous with past mission performance. Postulation: There is something about this mission which is upsetting you."_

"ODAI, flip the radio back on and mute yourself." Milo sat back up and grabbed the stick, deactivating the autopilot. All he got in response was a warbled chirp from his HUD and a mute icon beside his ODAI's corner display. The raccoon gave his head a shake and kept his face forward, looking towards the rest of the mission.

Looking ahead kept him from seeing the darkness behind his black eyes.

* * *

_Katina_

_Low Orbit_

The crew of the _Wild Fox_ was right to be worried about the unidentified object passing by Katina. The 15-meter wide sphere was an automated probe, a response by the weakened Primal forces that kept their soldiers and manned machinery secure from the dangers of reconnaissance missions. Like others of the FORG series, combat probe FORG-84 had been launched into subspace by an external FTL engine collar, which it had detached from after arriving at the destination point. It had left its means of long-range transport in a stationary position outside of Katina, then drifted in on low-energy ionic pulse thrusters for a close look.

The mission it had been programmed with was simple: Observe, return, report. That meant doing a flyby of the target planet in enemy held territory, scooping up whatever signals it could, taking a few high-resolution snapshots and emission scans, and then getting back to the FTL collar for a quick retreat.

Though it had started with a high-orbit, low activity scan, an abundance of artificial electromagnetic transmissions coming from the surface had made its electronic brain deduce that a closer look was required. The sphere had opened up its outer surface, giving the more delicate instruments inside of the hardened shell a better look at the planet below.

Within minutes of high-altitude scanning, FORG-84 had determined that Katina was a high value target; outbound radio transmissions showed an abundance of both unencrypted "civilian" communication traffic and encrypted, likely military, chatter as well. Atmospheric scans showed that temperature, air pressure, and chemical composition was within the ideal range for supporting Cornerian and Primal forms of life. Visual scans of the planet's unlit side indicated dense population centers, according to light pollution.

With that information recorded, it had then gone lower on its flyby, intent on making a collection of photographic evidence to confirm its prior estimations.

And that was when it had found the proverbial jackpot.

Sitting at what appeared to be an airbase, grounded, and a prime target, was a ship that its programmers had designated as an Alpha-Level Priority.

FORG-84 had discovered the location of Starfox's command ship.

And then its proximity alarm had gone off; company was flying up to meet it.

A check of the registry confirmed FORG-84's first possibility: An Arwing.

FORG-84 saved the data to its memory banks, sealed its instruments back up within the sphere, and reversed course on full thrust for its FTL engine collar.

* * *

_KIT had a bead on the strange looking sphere, but the distance was too great for laserlock. He and Terrany both were less than pleased at the interruption to their training…however, the open white space of their shared Merge reality seemed to glow a little brighter with an actual threat._

_ "We're running out of time here." The AI reminded her. "Got less than a minute's worth of Merge left before you get kicked out the hard way."_

_ "Well, we'll worry about that when we get to it." Terrany was focused on another screen, flipping through images until she found one that flashed green with confirmation. "Meanwhile, I've identified our bogey. It's Primal, all right: An unmanned probe. It's called a FORG."_

_ "What does that stand for?"_

_ "You really want to know?"_

_ "Not particularly. Can we blast it apart?"_

_ Terrany brought up the FORG's specifications on a larger side monitor. "Here, have a look. I'm gonna fly us in closer."_

_ KIT scanned over the document. "Gotta love what we took from that downed ship's databanks. Seems like the FORG is primarily recon. Lightly armored, doesn't have subspace capabilities of its own…means it has to use outside equipment to travel long distances. And it uses ionic engines. Huh, haven't seen those in a while."_

_ "Ionic?" Terrany made a face. "Geez. We should have no problems catching up to it."_

_ "Yeah, just be careful." KIT warned her. "Apparently, the FORG is equipped with high-yield neutronic charges…for when it's being pursued."_

_ On their main monitor, displaying what the forward camera and Terrany's own eyes could see, the FORG probe's back end opened up, and a pair of flashing white tablets the size of old car tires spun out in its wake._

_ "Remind me what those things could do to us."_

_ "Depending on how close we get…Scramble our sensors or irradiate you."_

_ "Shit." Terrany went high and evasive just as the first pellet detonated._

* * *

The FORG's first shots were partially successful; it threw the Arwing off of its tail as the enemy fighter went up high to evade the attack. Curiously, its sensors noted that the ship changed altitude, but maintained its _attitude_…moving from one place to another without the normal turning and differentiation of facing. Also, the Arwing pursuing it was displaying a six-winged configuration, rather than the normal port and starboard wings.

FORG-84 quickly deduced that the Arwing pursuing it was not a standard "Model K"…

Which meant that it was likely a Seraph Arwing, flown exclusively by the Starfox Team. All of this did not change its tactics, which were limited to begin with. Evasion and escape was the standing order.

The first two neutronic charges went off, igniting a brief nuclear fireball that sent out waves of irradiative energy in all directions: Harmless to the FORG within its shell, but dangerous to unprotected electronic systems. The blasts also had the potential to dose biological entities with radiation poisoning…a side effect of the neutronic charge that the Primals had stumbled across by accident.

The Arwing appeared unfazed by the first two explosions, and began racing after it again. The FORG launched another neutronic charge and tallied its remaining charges; two left. Its singular weapons system was never intended for an extended engagement. No, the best chance to complete its mission now would be to place its explosives hard in its wake, hoping to knock out the Seraph Arwing's sensors long enough to reach its engine collar and make the jump back to Primal-controlled space so it could upload its data. The engine collar was only four kilometers ahead now.

Just as before, the Seraph Arwing's maneuvering was spot on. It dove down below the charge, spinning in a tight corkscrew. The edge of the blast seemed to flare against its rear shields, and for a moment, FORG-84 thought it saw a flicker of lights from inside the ship's cockpit; a short, perhaps. Still, the Seraph pressed on.

FORG-84 launched its last two shots, but the Seraph was slightly quicker on the trigger. Having closed the distance successfully, the Arwing lashed out with its lasers and burned away a section of 84's outer shell. With an accuracy that FORG-84 dutifully catalogued, it then opened fire on the neutronic charges mere tenths of a second after they had been released. The subsequent explosion washed out over the backside of the probe, and the intense scrambling wave found purchase in the damaged section of armor.

FORG-84 was struck with a host of error messages, including a flareout of one of its ionic engines. Damaged and slowed, it tried a hasty evasive maneuver. The engine collar was a half kilometer distant, and one false move by the Arwing would give it the window needed to escape.

The Seraph pivoted in place, fired again, and blasted the interior of FORG-84's instruments and system components out the other side of its carapace. What was left of its electronic brain noted a complete systems failure before it blinked out and went dark.

For good measure, Terrany blasted the wreckage of the FORG probe and its nearby external engine with her Nova lasers until only superheated scraps of indistinguishable metal and soldered lumps of carbon silicate remained. Once the job was finished, she turned back towards Katina and brought up her interlink to the Godsight Pod optical network, which had faithfully kept a lock on her.

_**"It was a Primal recon probe. We've extinguished it."**_

_"Roger that, Terrany. Did it get a signal off?"_

_**"Negative. According to our Primal ship database, this model of probe lacks subspace communication abilities. We got it before it could get away. Looks like we got lucky on this one."**_

_"Very lucky. Oh, and Dr. Bushtail noticed something while you were in that last maneuver."_

The Merge Mode 5 minute limiter triggered, and Terrany found herself unceremoniously dropped back into her body with a faint throbbing in her forehead…a far cry from the splitting migraines that had rendered her comatose before.

Rubbing at her forehead, Terrany activated the autopilot and put KIT in the driver's seat. "What would that be?"

_"Your Synch ratio hit 86 percent at the end of that maneuver there. Needless to say, nobody else has gotten that much of a result before. Ever."_

"Yeah." Terrany pulled her hand away and took a deep breath. "I think…I think I feel okay."

_"Terrany, this is General Grey." _Sasha's pleasant tones were replaced by the bass undertones of her Commanding Officer. _"It seems congratulations are in order. I'm sure Dr. Bushtail has some last minute examinations to put you through, but…barring any surprises in your postflight physical, consider yourself back on active duty."_

Terrany broke out into a wide grin and took control of the Seraph, diving down through the upper atmosphere with a burning trail of angry atmospheric particles flaring against her shields.

_"Hey kid, be careful with the plane, would you? They just got this thing painted!"_

"I'll paint it myself, if it comes to it." Terrany promised KIT with a laugh. "You heard him, Falco. I just got my wings back!"

_"You never lost them." _KIT reminded her.

* * *

_Papetoon_

_Western Engagement Zone_

A three on one engagement was hardly ideal, but in war, it sometimes happened. Captain Hound knew that the Burnouts could outmaneuver him; like all Arwings, the Model K lost some of its supreme agility in atmosphere. The only hope he clung to was that his original hunch was correct, and that the Primal pilots flying against him were novices. The bravado in their voice, the chatter they tossed out over the air was a trademark in rookie Cornerian pilots, and he hoped that the similarities between Primal and Cornerian were more than purely genetic.

Young pilots usually made mistakes, and mistakes were something that he, with his long years of experience, could capitalize on readily. That said, the members of the Starfox team all loved to jaw their heads off, and they were deadly in combat, especially Terrany McCloud and the O'Donnell bastard.

Two of the Burnouts were chasing him, painting his tail end with their attack radars and sending a spray of laserfire his way from time to time. The third, which he tracked visually overhead, was using the efforts of his wingmates to prepare for a diving attack.

Lars spun into a left-leaning aileron roll, deflecting the punishing shots away harmlessly. The veteran figured he had one opportunity to surprise all three of them, so making it count was critical. A lucky laserbolt punished his rear shielding, cementing the urgency. He growled and waited as the Burnout above him angled its nose downwards, and the _pip-pip-pip_ of a searching radar beam turned to a shrill drone, indicating enemy target lock.

"All right, you bastard. Try it!" Lars pushed the throttle up and pulled back on his stick hard.

_"What the…"_

_ "He's going high!"_

In truth, Captain Hound was pushing his Arwing through a full loop. As he neared the top of the maneuver, the Burnout above him fell into his crosshairs. Lars smiled and sprayed the inbound with blue hyper lasers. Caught off guard, the fighter stopped the attack and broke off, trailing smoke from several impact points.

_"Damnit, my shields are down! Cover me!"_ The pilot cried out. The two who had been following him were now above him in their chase loop. They quickly moved to reverse their turn, inverting and falling belly first to catch Hound at the bottom of his loop. Lars grinned through the G-Forces and hit his retros, nearly stalling out. The pressure put against his body was reduced to nearly negligible levels.

"Thank the Creator for inertial dampeners." His slow crawl caused the overzealous Burnouts to dive down in front of him, rather than on top of him.

_"Shit, he's behind us!"_

_"3, 4, go evasive NOW!"_ The retreated Burnout shouted. The Burnouts in front of Hound righted themselves and split apart, pumping their afterburners to regain lost momentum.

"Got you." Hound tightened his finger on the trigger, charging a laserburst. He pushed his own engines back to standard thrust and led his targeting reticule in front of the Burnout that had jinked left. As soon as the marker turned red, it locked on. Hound quickly tapped the gun trigger, and the ball of green light collected at his nose shot out.

To his credit, the young Primal tried to steer away from his death. At the close range they were at, however, escape was impossible. The laserburst homed in perfectly and exploded just off of the Burnout's starboard engine. The resulting damage sent what was left of the jet tumbling down to its demise in an unrecoverable flat spin.

_"Geode 4 is down!"_ The other evasive Burnout shrieked. _"What do I do? What do I do?"_

Apparently, Geode 3 had never fought in an engagement where one of his wingmen had been shot down, because he was voicing his panic over the open frequency. Ignoring the cries of Geode 2, he banked hard right and tried to make out on an escape vector. Lars made an easy turn and put himself right behind the fighter.

"There's a rule about retreating from a dogfight." Lars called out over the radio. His reticule went red and locked on to the Burnout. "You do it when your enemy _isn't_ hot on your heels!"

Another laserburst flew out, homed in, and sunk the second fighter of the enemy force. The shot completely obliterated the Burnout, and this time, only scraps of debris survived the explosion. Lars felt rather pleased with himself until he suddenly realized he'd made a grave mistake of his own; he'd lost track of the last Burnout, the one he'd damaged but not destroyed at the start of the fight.

His warning alarm suddenly blared at him, and there wasn't enough time to react before his Arwing shuddered and shook under the impact of a direct missile hit.

"Shit!" Hound cursed himself and barrel rolled hard right, making for the treeline of the forests below.

_"Oh no you don't." _The last surviving Primal pilot snarled angrily. _"You're going to __**burn**__ for what you did, you sack of kindling!"_

Missiles weren't something to fool around with; whatever they'd packed inside the warhead of the projectile had chewed his shields up pretty badly. Lars didn't want to get hit by another one. He really didn't want to take two up the pipe.

"Think about it." Lars snapped back at the Burnout, who was keeping pace with him. "You're more beat up than I am. I've just downed your two wingmen in seconds. What kind of a chance do you think you stand?"

Red laserfire smashed into the back of his Arwing's shields in response, and Hound swore as he started another hasty aileron roll to deflect the others away.

_"More than you do."_ The last member of the Geode team vowed. Another missile soared through the air…

But to Captain Hound's dismay, it wasn't coming from behind him. The white projectile shot up from underneath the canopy of the forest below, zoomed past his cockpit, and made a line straight for his pursuer. With the Burnout's shields still down, Geode 2 didn't stand a chance. His jet disintegrated, and Hound found himself flying alone in the skies.

"Frigging Lylus!" He swore, weaving wildly in case any more missiles were coming up. A laugh came over the radio in response to his crazy maneuvering.

_"Relax, Arwing. We weren't aiming for you. Heard your little fight with those Primal bastards on the radio, and we thought you might appreciate the help."_

"You Resistance fighters?" Hound asked, trying to calm his racing heart. He leveled out his plane and swept back around.

_"Yeah. Sergeant Sev Mollinson, 2__nd__ Platoon. My team and I operate a moving anti-air battery."_

"Good for you." Hound thanked him. The captain of the 21st Squadron thought about the situation for a moment longer, then busted out laughing.

_"What's so funny?"_

"What I said to them when they started this furball. I was right after all."

_It really doesn't take a Starfox pilot to bring them down._

* * *

_Southwestern Engagement Zone_

Lavitz Zovius, the leader of Geode Squadron, was a very capable pilot. He and Rourke had been dancing in the skies of Papetoon for nearly a full two minutes, with only glancing blows exchanged. Rourke knew that to be a rarity, because aerial duels were often resolved in much shorter periods. His flying style was the antithesis of Rourke's: The Primal flew conservatively, only giving up momentum when it was absolutely necessary. Twice, Rourke had given Lavitz an opportunity to come after him by slowing up, but the Primal had refused to take the bait. The second time, he'd leisurely swung up in a slow roll and then dove on Rourke as the Seraph passed beneath him. Rourke's shields had taken a bit of a beating that time.

_"You're good, Starfox, but I'm better."_ The statement was meant to goad Rourke into making a mistake, something that the wolf fully understood. He could have gone into Merge Mode and ended the fight in seconds, but something stopped him.

In the skies of Venom, Terrany had faced a squadron of Burnouts herself, and had done so without using Merge Mode. Now it was a matter of pride, pride that Rourke was capable of the same. Pride could get a pilot killed, but Rourke knew that if pride was driving him to do this the hard way, it was also driving his opponent. Insight led to inspiration.

That was his opening.

"I won't say you're better, Lavitz, but I will admit that you're pretty good." Rourke called back. "You must have had a few years of training."

_"We Primals are bred for battle." _The enemy pilot boasted. _"I have flown since I was a middling, preparing myself for this war."_

"That explains your combat tactics." Rourke grunted, hurling himself through a hasty Immelmann reversal. The Burnout paused for a moment before turning to follow him. "I thought your style was a little rigid."

_"Like your flight training was any different from mine." _The Primal snapped. _"You are the tip of the arrow your Cornerian masters hurl against us. They have trained you for years to do this."_

"Not quite." Rourke rebuked him, pulling up and away. "Corneria didn't train me to fight. I learned to fly so I could fight _against_ it. That means there's a big difference between us."

Rourke looked back over his shoulder, watching the Burnout close fast behind him. He lit the boosters, turned into a tight corkscrew spiral, and nodded as the Primal came after him hard, accelerating.

Just when he heard the drone of a missile lock, Rourke dropped his thrust to nil and fired his retros. The Arwing tried to go one way, his inertia pulled him the other, and he clenched every muscle in his body as darkness closed on the side of his eyes.

Caught unawares, the Burnout shot past him…and became the hunted.

"See, military training like you, or our SDF provides, is fine. They teach you strategy and tactics, and they drill it into you until it's all reflex." Rourke's words picked up speed, and in spite of the Primal's evasive turns, he peppered it with hyper laserfire.

"But something happens after too much drilling. You stop thinking, you toss out your natural instincts for a replacement model. And that makes you vulnerable…"

Rourke's next shot ripped through a final defiant flare of the Burnout's energy shields and tore a chunk of its left wing off.

_"Gah! Damn you!"_

Rourke held down the trigger, building up a charge shot. The Burnout's flight pattern wobbled, crippled by its injury.

"That makes you **mine**." The lock-on box appeared over the Burnout, and Rourke fired. The pilot ejected safely before the laserburst destroyed his jet. Rourke circled back, watching a parachute deploy. The pilot would land safely.

"Starfox has _never_ been bound to Corneria's will." Rourke explained. "We're a mercenary unit. Right now, we're getting paid to kill you all off. Funny, considering I might do it for free."

_"You bastard!"_

"You said that already, Lavitz." Rourke rolled his eyes. "The taunt loses its sting after a while." He switched to another frequency, one he knew the Resistance could hear.

"To any Resistance forces in the area, this is Rourke O'Do...Rourke of the Starfox team. I have downed two Primal fighter jets, and one pilot is parachuting down. I recommend you send a recon squadron to capture him as a POW. He should be kept _alive_. If my guess is right, he knows things that could help the war effort."

The airwaves were silent in reply, but he'd said what he needed to. Rourke turned to heading 045 and flew off.

**"That was some pretty smooth flying, boss."** His ODAI complimented him.

Rourke grunted and shook his head. "McCloud could have done that better."

**"Which one?" **ODAI teased him. **"Skip…Or Teri?"**

* * *

_Papetoon Primal Command Outpost_

_30 minutes after Starfox's Planetfall_

Stahlwark slumped in his command chair, lost to the world. His base was in ruins. The prisons had been lost. His men, dead or captured.

The Primal dominance of Papetoon was ended, and it had happened on his watch. Idly, he had been aware of the others in the outpost fleeing, but he'd done nothing to stop their loss of military discipline. It no longer mattered.

A sudden _ka-CLICK_ pulled him from his stupor, and the disheveled ground commander looked up. Two Lylatians, animals compared to him, had their laser rifles pointed at his chest.

"Don't move, Primal." The first warned him.

Stahlwark mustered a wry smile and grunted softly, failing to laugh. "Where would I move _to_, vermin?"

The rat who had told him to freeze raised the gun up slightly, putting the barrel from Stahlwark's chest to his head. "You wanna be smart with me? After all your people have done, I've got a _very_ itchy trigger finger. We caught all your boys. Some of them surrendered. A few decided to run. I've had some practice shooting your kind because of them."

Stahlwark closed his eyes and shook his head. "How?" He whispered.

That question was the only sane thought in his head as they tied his hands behind his back and marched him out to their transport, driving him to rot in some hole in the ground.

His command had been lost in less than an hour. Days of rounding up their enemies, days of hunting them down, and everything gone in the span of a meal. Six Arwings.

_How?_

* * *

_Papetoon's Upper Atmosphere_

The flight away from the planet was far less taxing on the fighters than the flight in. The three K Arwings and the three X-1 Seraphs reverted to their optical communication interlink once they were back in formation, and there was no mistaking a great sense of satisfaction, pride, and renewed purpose. It flowed through the unit, a brimming boost to morale that they fed to one another.

"Man, I didn't know if we'd make it to the camp in time. They had some pretty serious defenses, too." Wallaby started up giddily. "Luckily, Damer had an idea, and we were able to get that floating fortress away from the prison."

"He understates our victory, but that was the general pattern." Damer said. "We really did something great today. This wasn't just a military victory, it was a moral one. They always told us during training that the SDF saved lives. Today we got to prove it. Thousands of people are alive because of our strike here."

"In the short term, yes." Captain Hound tried to temper his wingmates' enthusiasm. "But their cities have been destroyed. Their infrastructure's been wrecked, and they need food, shelter…the necessities. Our rescue won't mean dick if they can't get some relief aid."

"I'm thinking that they'll get it." Dana grunted. "This is the first planet we've reclaimed from the Primals. Once we give General Grey our debrief, you can bet he'll get all of Corneria to start sending ships this way. People'll want to help."

"Maybe." Milo said, almost emotionlessly. "But it wasn't that long ago Corneria was attacking Papetoon itself. The public response might not be as favorable as you think."

"That's a Hell of a thing to say after what we just did." Wallaby complained. "Can't you at least say something positive?"

The raccoon grunted, thought for a moment, and changed the subject. "So, which team won the duel?"

"I shot down two Burnout fighters." Rourke announced, tossing out his statistic.

"Yeah? Well, I engaged three of them, O'Donnell." Captain Hound retorted. "Guess that means my team won the bet."

"Not so fast there." Milo cut in. "I got updates from the Resistance teams before we took off, and one of your bogeys was nailed by a ground unit with shoulder launched SAMs. That puts your kill ratio at two, Captain Hound. And if we're getting picky, we should also add in those hovering command posts above the prison compounds. The Starfox team destroyed two of those…Damer and Wallaby shared the kill for the other. Means we're one up on you."

"...I'm not so sure we should count those hovering command stations." Hound hastily reasoned. "Doesn't seem right kill-counting something like that. Why don't we just keep it to the fighters that got shot down today?"

"What, you mean we tied?" Rourke humorously guessed.

"I guess we did, lieutenant."

"Well, that's freaking convenient." Dana scoffed.

The last deep blue of the atmosphere gave way for darkness, and they emerged out of Papetoon's influence. Rourke took point and punched in his FTL coordinates.

"Everybody, slave your Navigation to my console. I'll take us back home."

The other five Arwing pilots did as ordered, and their G-Diffuser fields thrummed faster as they prepared for the shift to subspace.

Milo chanced one last look back over his shoulder to the fringe world of Papetoon, then closed his eyes and turned back.

"See you later."

Six flashes of light in the skies of Papetoon signaled their departure.

* * *

_The Hall of Antiquity_

_Venom_

Grandflight Gatlus was beginning to warm up to the disgraced, but dedicated Captain Telemos. The decorated supreme ace found himself wandering the corridors of their ancestral home, moving to the room within the labrynthian stoneworks set aside for the pilot training program he had assumed responsibility for.

The old, gray-furred Primal stuck his head through the doorway and glanced inside. Telemos was sitting in an unpadded metal recline, staring off at the wall. An information screen lay on the desk in front of him, operating in sleep mode.

Gatlus stepped inside, bringing a container of pastries with him. "Lost in thought, Telemos?"

The younger Primal blinked twice, then straightened up marginally to address his visitor. "Grandflight Gat…Valmoor. What brings you down here?"

"You're a pilot, I'm a pilot." The old man said, shrugging nonchalantly. "We rarely need more reason than that. But, yes. I thought you might appreciate something to eat. I haven't seen you grace the mess lately."

Telemos snorted, but took the package of rolls. "I have little reason to. The mess is full of people who would shoot me, soon as give me the time of day." He tore the wrapping open and took a bite of the first sticky roll.

"Meteor Squadron." Valmoor Gatlus rolled his eyes. "Have you and Captain Hachsturm always had it out for one another?"

"He's an Elite Primal, I'm of a lesser House. Or I was."

"And you think the amount of fur we have on our faces means anything to making us better or worse as fighter pilots?" Valmoor asked. It was a loaded question, as Valmoor was as thick-haired as Telemos. Telemos settled for chewing slowly on his first roll and looking back at the wall.

Grandflight Gatlus tapped his metal walking rod on the floor and sighed. "I doubt you're in here sulking, though. You had a look of a troubled soldier when I came in."

Telemos tapped his sleeping touchscreen and brought the image back up. It displayed the map of the Lylat System, planets color-coded by possession.

One of the planets flashed between the colors indicating Primal and Cornerian control. The translation matrix indicated the enemy name for it was _Papetoon_.

"Primal Command received a frantic communication from the outpost stationed at this remote world. The transmission was cut off seconds after it began, but what little did get said indicated that they were under attack…by Arwings."

Gatlus frowned. "We have reports of Arwings working with the enemy fleet on their attack at the planet they call Darussia as well…I suppose that we can rule out them being in two places at once." He zoomed in on the planet of Papetoon and raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute. Geode Squadron was stationed there?"

"You know of them?"

"I know they're rather low tier." Valmoor scratched above his ear. "And there's been no communication from the outpost since then, I imagine?"

Telemos shook his head. "Repeated hails have gone unanswered. Command feels that there's no tactical reason for sending reinforcements troops to the planet."

"Well, I'd agree with that assessment." Gatlus nodded. "This Papetoon is not a core world. It has no military infrastructure. It's agrarian, and offers no direct routes to the interior worlds." He paused for a moment. "Tell me, Telemos, do you believe that it was Starfox who led the attack on our forces there?"

"I think it could be no other." Telemos responded quickly. "The logic behind the attack confused me at first, until I placed that team, and McCloud, as the aggressors. The planet has little strategic importance, but they didn't make this attack to strike a crippling blow against our forces."

Gatlus hobbled his way over to another chair and sat down, staring intently at the younger pilot. He folded his hands over the top of his cane. "Explain."

Telemos zoomed the map back out to the full binary system and waved his hand over it. "Starfox wanted to send us a message with this little raid of theirs. They're telling us that they can strike anywhere, anytime that they feel like it."

Gatlus nodded, waiting for the younger Primal to continue.

"What is left of our forces is either contending with the enemy fleet at Darussia, or moving to reinforce more crucial nodes in our controlled territory. We're stretched thin as it is, and since Starfox is operating independently of the rest of their military, we must _keep_ them stretched thin."

"Good." Grandflight Gatlus smiled thinly. "A very sound deduction, captain. You have a knowledge of overall strategy that would make you a fine line officer some day."

"I'm where I belong." Telemos refused the praise. "This new tactic of theirs means we have to speed up our own timetable. The six squadrons we have been training alongside Phoenix Squadron are the key. If we're to stop Starfox, we must deploy them."

"Are they ready, though?" Valmoor pressed. "They have only been training together for a few days. Do you believe they are ready?"

"My team wasn't ready when Starfox came to our homeworld." Telemos wearily replied. "We fought anyway. Another day's worth of training, perhaps, but this new tactic requires a response. I have taught them all I can about these Arwings, about Starfox. It is up to them to make that knowledge a part of them. They must be sent out to new assignments. They must be ready to defend our territory against the strikes of this unpredictable menace. All of us must be. Whether we fear Starfox or not, whether we believe we will triumph or fail in combat against those Arwings, we must fly and fight. How heavy my heart is, that is how it must be."

Gatlus stood up. "Then you have learned something else about being a commander…the burden of responsibility. It never gets easier, Telemos."

"Do you get used to it?" Telemos asked the teacher.

"Pray that you never become anesthetized to the value of your pilot's lives." Gatlus warned him. The Grandflight clapped his hand on Telemos's shoulder and strolled out of the room.

Telemos took one look at the remaining rolls and slid the package away from him. One roll had been enough to sate his physical hunger. It let another sensation take starvation's place.

He brought up the close-in view of Papetoon again, and pictured Terrany Anne McCloud, that albino bitch, taunting him as she destroyed more of the Primal's air forces. His fist tightened and cracked the screen into an unintelligible mess of scrambled data.

"My move now, McCloud."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Katina_

_Evening_

A knock at the door to General Grey's private quarters aboard the still-being-repaired _Wild Fox_ pulled the aging dog from his book. Arnold pulled off his reading glasses and set the old leatherbound novel to the side of his bed.

"Yeah, I'm coming." He had removed his outer jacket but kept the fatigue's pants on. The T-Shirt he wore underneath made him look even more menacing than he did in the uniform proper, due largely to a rigorous series of calisthenics he'd kept to for decades. The room's lights had been dimmed, but came up a few notches of brightness as the sensors by the door registered his approach.

The door slid open as he pushed the access button, and he looked out into the residential corridor, seeing Sergeant Milo Granger standing on the opposite side of it. The ring-tailed raccoon was in civilian clothing, clearly off-duty, and he seemed a little out of it.

"Sergeant." General Grey nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping to have a moment to talk with you, sir."

Grey stood in the doorway a few seconds more, then pulled back and motioned for Milo to come inside. "Go ahead."

The raccoon occupied his room's sitting chair, and Grey reclined on his bed again. "You wanted to talk, Milo. What's on your mind?"

"It was about the mission today." The raccoon began. "Did you inform General Kagan and the CSC about what we found?"

"If you're asking me about the likelihood of Papetoon receiving relief aid, the chances are high." Grey folded his hands together. "The Primals had these people stuffed in prisons. They were planning on killing them all. We've never seen a scorched earth policy like that before. And then there's the matter of those POWs the Resistance captured. The Joint Chiefs are quite interested in learning what the Primal commander and those pilots you shot down know. The first military transport left an hour ago from Corneria. More will follow."

Milo finally breathed again. "Good."

Grey squinted, his old eyes noticing an irregularity in the usually relaxed soldier. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle, sir."

"Don't lie to me, sergeant." Grey warned him. "My father didn't take on Andross's Saucerer over Pyramid Base just so we could all start hiding the truth."

Milo looked away, but nodded. "Today got to me. Being there. Doing what we did. It brought up some memories I couldn't put back down. I was losing concentration, fading out."

"That happens to everyone."

"Not to me, general." Milo insisted. "It's never happened to me."

Grey sucked on his tongue. "So what do you want me to do, Milo? We don't have a Psychiatrist on our staff, outside of what little Doc Bushtail remembers from pre-med. Are you asking me for another day off?"

"No, sir." Milo brushed away the suggestion. "This is my problem and I'll handle it."

"So what do you want?"

"I don't _know_, all right?" Milo snapped. The burst of agitation was so out of character that Grey reeled backwards. Milo grunted in exasperation and got back up on his feet. "I don't know."

Grey went for a softer approach not wanting to rile the former sniper any further. "When you do figure it out, sergeant, let me know."

"Yes, sir." Milo gave him a salute and started for the door. He had one foot out in the corridor when he found his voice again.

"General?"

The career commander put his reading glasses back on and looked over. "Yes, Milo?"

"I know why I'm upset." Milo announced softly. He didn't have the heart to look over his shoulder. "Ten years ago…we were the Primals."

Milo walked out, and Grey's door slid shut behind him.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Dorsal Exterior Access Hatch 14-B_

_11:14 P.M._

As the owner and primary operator of the ship that had taken her old call sign, Terrany had tried to make herself as familiar with the supercarrier's nooks and crannies as possible. Now that the ship was drydocked and offline, that included the outer hull as well.

On the stern end of the _Wild Fox_, engineering crews were still hard at work on the replacement wing. The last report Wyatt had given said that they were another week and a half from getting airborne again, though he'd likely padded the estimate just to piss the nagging brass off.

With the two suns of the Lylat System set over the horizon, Terrany had a view of the brighter stars in the night sky. Without running lights, the _Wild Fox_ managed to block a great deal of direct light pollution from the base. All in all, it had been a great day, and it wasn't that bad of a night.

The hatch six feet behind her creaked as the seal was opened up, and Terrany was pulled harshly from her daydreams. Expecting a member of Wyatt's work crew to emerge, she was pleased when the hatch swung up on its tri-mounted hinge and Rourke's scruffy ears popped into view. The rest of his head followed, and he smiled at Terrany when his eyes adjusted to the dark.

"There you are."

"Hey, trouble." Terrany returned the greeting. "Come on up."

"That was the plan." Rourke chuckled. "I had to ask ROB where you'd gotten off to. I'm kind of surprised you wanted to sit outside. It's chilly."

"Yeah, that's Katina for you." Terrany looked back out over the air base as Rourke's boots clanked up the hatch ladder. "Less humid than Corneria, less mass to trap heat. You get used to the cold after a while."

A weight slumped over Terrany's shoulders, and she shivered. Reaching her hands up, she realized Rourke had used her faded leather flight jacket to cover her up.

"You're a horrible liar, Teri." Rourke said. He landed hard next to her and let out a yawning sigh.

Warmer, and not just because of the jacket, Terrany pulled it tighter around her. "So now you're calling me Teri?"

"You called me trouble. Once you started with the nicknames, I figured all bets were off." He brought his legs up and sat his hands on his knees. "Hey, I heard you passed your Merge physicals, and managed to off a Primal reconnaissance probe in the process. Good job."

"And I heard that you got yourself into a furball with the lead plane of another Primal fighter squadron." Terrany looked sideways at him, smirking. "You look like you enjoyed it."

"Well, we accomplished something terrific today. It's not about me, it's about what the team did."

"Bullshit."

"…All right, fine. So I enjoyed it." He rolled his eyes. "Can you blame me?"

"Not really." The white vixen admitted. Rourke found himself sneaking glances at her in the uneasy silence that followed, doing his best to avoid meeting her eyes. In the dim starlight, her pale fur seemed to turn blue.

"Ahem." Terrany cleared her throat. "So the next time we fly out, I'll be on your wing again. You sure you'll be okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"It seems like I have a habit of stealing your thunder."

"You're a McCloud. Thunder stealing is a part of the package."

"Oh, shut up." She giggled and shoved his shoulder. The gray wolf fell in an exaggerated motion before righting himself. "I guess you can goof off, after all."

Rourke blinked. "…I guess I can." He agreed. "Not that there's been much call for it. I will say this, though. Having you back to normal is easier on the nerves. Less concerns on the plate and all."

"Hold the phone. Rourke O'Donnell, are you trying to say you were _worried_ about me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He replied quickly. A moment later, as she was pondering what that quick response meant, he offered a hasty amendment. "You're a member of this squadron, and I'm the flight lead. I'm supposed to worry about you."

"And that's why every time I've been down on myself, you've been there knocking sense into me. Because you're my flight lead." Terrany looked at him, and grabbed his chin. She turned his muzzle until it was only inches from hers. "That's the only reason?"

Put on the spot, Rourke froze. He could feel her icy eyes trying to peel his thoughts out of him, and it took all the willpower he had to blink.

"Is it?" She repeated.

Scrambling to say something, _anything_, Rourke uttered the first sentence that came to mind, and immediately regretted it.

"What do you want me to say?"

Stormclouds rumbled in her darkening eyes, and Terrany released his face. "Forget I said anything." She uttered.

"Terrany, I…"

"I said forget it." She snapped, looking away. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"No."

She whirled back on him, all her good cheer evaporated. "You want me to hurt you now?"

Rourke gave his head a shake. "If you really came at me, I would put you down, and you know it. No, I'm not leaving. Not until you understand something about me."

She folded her arms, not in the mood to hear it, but acknowledging it was the only way to get rid of him. "Fine."

"You had a family growing up. You still have your mother. You knew your father. You had people that cared for you. All I had was a father who constantly called me his "mistake" until he took off, and a grandfather who abused me because he thought it'd toughen me up."

He'd meant for his reasoning to explain why Terrany should be thankful for what she had, but something kept him talking. Things he'd bottled up were being torn out of him, because maybe he wanted to say them, and this would be the only time he could. It came out angry. It came out fast. All his painful years snapped into focus, and he could see the wedge that divided who he'd been from who he was. Her eyes widened as he went on, and that hot wall she'd put up began to crumble.

"I wasn't _raised_ to be honest with my feelings. I was raised to cut them off, to worry only about the job. That changed when Carl came into my life. He offered his understanding, his caring, without any expectations of a return. When he put me on Project Seraphim, he gave me a family. I'm still learning how to deal with that. How to deal with…with everything. How I feel, especially. Terrany, I'm damaged goods, and I know it."

The venom in his tone started to dissipate. "You can't grab me and demand to know how I feel about you. I don't know. Hell, I don't know how I feel about anyone most of the time. It's easier just to worry about the job, about my instincts, about my flying. I'm not saying I won't change. I have been changing, because of you, because of Milo and Dana, because of everything that's happening around us. Just..."

Struggling to get his feelings out, Rourke threw his hands in the air and looked off to the side.

"I don't know." He finished. "It's a piss-poor answer, but that's all I got."

He got up and turned to leave. Her hand suddenly tugged on his.

"Sit." She ordered him. He looked down, and the vixen pursed her lips. "Please."

Rourke slumped back down on top of the hull and shook his head. "God, we're both a right mess."

"Maybe." Terrany wagered. "You're more messed up than I am, though."

He let off a bitter laugh. "I didn't know this was a contest."

Her head slumped against his shoulder, and he tensed up on reflex.

"It's not." She promised him, and huddled up closer. "And thank you for bringing my jacket out."

Rourke looked up to the stars and breathed slowly. "You're welcome."

The tension in his body didn't go away, and she put a hand to his chest. "What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about what your brother would say if he knew his only sister was getting cozy with me."

"He'd try to fight you, and he'd lose."

"You're probably right." Rourke said, and she laughed again, as mercurial as a summer storm blown over for clear skies. That laugh finally helped him to relax, and whether he meant to or not, his arm came around and hugged her close.

"I'm glad you're with us again." Rourke concluded diplomatically.

Terrany closed her eyes and focused on the sound of his heartbeat. She had nothing else to say.


	22. Return to War

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: RETURN TO WAR

**Supply Rings, Assorted-** Discovered during the first wave of interplanetary colonization, supply rings, shield rings, and supply stars were mere curiosity until they were discovered to contain vast amounts of energy. Scientific expeditions eventually identified the source of these supply rings as the two stars that dominated the Lylat System, which periodically expelled the hyperkinetic artifacts within shells of molten rock and other starmetals. A product of fusion in nature, supply rings were a more stable, though shorter lasting, alternative to more traditional irradiative materials. Supply rings made a strong comeback in the years following the Lylat Wars, when it was discovered that shield-equipped vessels capable of using the Draw Effect could use supply rings to recharge their deflectors or even increase shield capacity without use of power induction equipment.

**(From Peppy Hare's Memoir, ****Trust Your Instincts****)**

"_**I'd never been too fond of artificial constructs, but there was one I eventually called friend. Flying against the forces of Andross, there were plenty of times that Fox got himself into a real scrap; like his father, he'd jump in the middle and then thrash until he got out of it. When he disengaged with his shields battered to a pulp, an incoming call from the **_**Great Fox**_** lifted all our spirits. That robot, ROB, became a morale booster for us. He'd deliver recharges on the go, hurling supply containers from orbit down into the battlefield. It got to the point that Falco said Fox was doing something wrong if we didn't hear that monotone expression once every sortie: **__Location confirmed, sending supplies.__**"**_

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Sallwey Province, Katina_

_Wild Fox, Rec Center_

_15__th__ Day of the Primal War, 6:36 A.M._

Terrany was used to a few bad visions during sleep, but this morning had been worse than usual. A member of her lineage had perished in a dogfight with no chance of success, but it hadn't been her father in the skies of Venom. This time, it had been her grandfather who died in the dream. She'd woken up in a cold sweat, pushing her hands out in front of her to brush the nightmare away.

Too awake to go back to sleep, too unraveled to do anything productive, she'd made her way through the quiet corridors of the _Wild Fox_ until she reached the space set aside for recreation and exercise. It also had a sauna among its amenities, and at the last ship status report from ROB, the hotbox's power had been restored. A quick stop in the women's changing room got her into a soft terry cloth robe that was clearly _not_ military issue, and then she was off to the sauna proper. A finished pine door served as the barrier to the steam room, and when Terrany opened it up, a wave of hot and humid air blasted into her face, washing away the chill of the ship's air conditioning.

She immediately noticed that the sauna had one other occupant, Dana Tiger. Her wingman's black and orange stripes were a dead giveaway. Terrany's second reaction was a sudden blush, as Dana was lying flat on her stomach on the low bench, her back to the door…naked but for her fur.

"Oh." Terrany squeaked out, as Dana lifted her head up and looked back over her shoulder.

"Oh, Terrany." The tigress muzzily replied. Her tail lazily swung up and moved to the other side of her body. "Come on in. There's plenty of room in here."

"I…I…"

Dana frowned and lifted herself up, leaning on an elbow and giving the younger woman a good look of her best assets. "In or out, Terrany, make up your mind. Either way, shut the door, you're wasting steam."

Ears flattened against her skull, Terrany stepped into the sauna and let the door swing shut behind her.

Dana gestured to the hot stones perched over the heating element on the wall, and a nearby bucket of water with a spoon in it. "Go ahead and put another ladle on the rocks, would you? We'll need to recharge the air in here."

Terrany did as she was asked, and was rewarded with a puff of steam and a satisfying _hiss_.

"I didn't think anyone else would be in here."

"At this time of the day, no, there wouldn't be." Dana laid down again and yawned. "That's why I like to come in here in the mornings. Nobody bothers me."

Terrany turned around, glancing furtively to the older woman. "You always…"

"What, steambathe naked?" Dana was smiling. "Yes, I do. It's the only way to let my pores open up completely. You should try it."

Terrany laughed nervously and rubbed a hand through her headfur. "No, I couldn't."

"Terrany, up until you showed up this morning, I've never had anybody stumble in on my morning soak. It's just us girls, what are you afraid of?"

Unable to come up with a decent answer, Terrany mutely untied her robe and set it on the corner section of the top bench. After a few hesitant steps, she sat down on top of the robe and looked down to Dana.

The tigress looked up to the vixen and nodded. "There, see? Nothing bad's happening. But you might want to move in a few minutes. The heat up at the top of the sauna will make your head swim."

Terrany leaned back against the wooden paneling of the hotbox and closed her eyes, trying not to compare her physical attributes with that of Dana's. "That's all right. I think my head could use a good baking."

"Hm. Something bothering you?" Dana flipped herself rightside up and stretched out one leg while pulling the other one closer to her torso. "You did a terrific job on that mission yesterday, I thought."

"Yeah, we all did, even with that salvage platform throwing chunks of ship wreckage at us. It reminded me of something my grandfather went up against, actually."

"I still have trouble separating the truth of the Lylat Wars from the exaggerations." Dana admitted. "So what's on your mind, then?"

"Just bad dreams." said Terrany. The last McCloud opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. "We've got so much going on, I can't afford to have them."

"Yeah. I think we're all starting to get a little sleep-deprived." Dana agreed. "Which is why it's important that you take a little time for yourself every now and then, like you're doing now."

"What, and relax?"

"You're like your brother in that regard." Dana teased her. "Carl couldn't relax for the life of him. Creator knows I tried to get him to slow down and enjoy things."

"Well, some of it must have worked." Terrany wiped a hand over her eyes. "He was dating you."

"And what about you?" Dana finally sat up, stretching her arms above her head. "You know, I've been wondering for a while now if there's something going on between you and Rourke."

Terrany blinked a few times, glancing at Dana expressionlessly. "What makes you say that?"

"Remember that trip we took to your house a few days back?"

"Hard to forget that." Terrany flexed her claws, smiling to herself. "That was the day I got my wings back, even if I had to hijack my Arwing to do it."

"Well, I saw you kiss Rourke, and then he said something to me afterwards. He said that you were corrupting him, rather than the other way around."

"Are you trying to warn me off of him, or are you fishing for details?"

"Hm. A little of both, maybe." Dana shrugged. "Look, I'm not saying Rourke's not a decent person. He's a great pilot, he's turned into a decent flight lead, and he takes care of us. But in his heart, he's still a space pirate, a rebel. You sure that he's the kind of guy you should be focusing on?"

"He knows me." Terrany shot back. "I mean...he took the time to get to know me, Dana. General Grey, the others in command, I'm just a pilot to them. Milo's more concerned about being a father figure and a source of wisdom to delve under the surface, and you…" She fumbled for a moment, "…well, I'm lousy at girl talk. Awful at it."

"Oh, relax." Dana reassured her. "Being a female test pilot for the Cornerian Air Force had its own set of challenges. I'm used to dealing with men, so we're even on that score."

"But Rourke?" Terrany went on, gesturing with her hands. "He's tough on the outside, but his heart's always in the right place. Every time I was sinking, he pulled me back up and got me back on my feet. He'd talk to me, not expecting anything. That's more than any other guy I've known ever did. With Rourke, I can be myself, not some strange girl I barely recognize."

"Yeah." Dana admitted. "That's important, all right. You can be honest with him, but has he been honest with you?"

Terrany blinked. "About what, exactly?"

Dana looked at her, worry and sympathy playing out on her face. "Just…be careful, all right? Take things slowly. After all, it's not like you've fallen in love with him." She laughed a bit, but stumbled to a halt when Terrany still said nothing in return. "…Right?"

Just then, the sauna's vox-only communications panel beeped at them from its perch by the door. _"Dana, Terrany, this is ROB."_

More swiftly than Dana could react, Terrany was up on her feet and moving to the panel. The white vixen pushed the talk button and opened the ship's intercom circuit. "Go ahead, ROB. What're you doing up this early?"

_"Performing routine ship maintenance and diagnostics."_ The ship's hardwired supervising robot deadpanned. _"General Grey has requested that all members of the Starfox Team and the 21__st__ Squadron muster for a briefing this morning at 0730 hours."_

"The old bastard never sleeps." Dana rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, we'll be there." Terrany let go of the button and walked back for her bathrobe. "I guess we're back on the clock, Dana."

"Hell being a mercenary under contract, isn't it?" The tigress joked. She let the smile drift away and resumed her serious tone. "So, you feeling a little more relaxed now?"

"A little bit, yeah. I'm not thinking about my nightmares anymore." Terrany closed her robe up and cinched the drawstring tight. "And everything else is going to have to wait until we get through whatever it is that we have to do today."

"Just give what I said some thought." Dana pleaded. "I don't want you making a mistake."

Something in her last sentence must have been the wrong thing to say, because Terrany scowled at her wingman.

"I know him well enough to disagree with you. Rourke is _not_ a mistake."

* * *

_Darussia, High Orbit_

_Primal Controlled Space_

Praetor Kunzerd Siess controlled the Primal forces of Darussia, and had since the Primals made landfall in the system. He considered it a high mark of pride that he had been able to capture the world so quickly, and turn the remaining defense weaponry of the Cornerian residents to his own ends. There had even been a squadron of Arwings waiting for him and his men, but the elite pilots tied to his command, Meteor Squadron, had eventually defeated them. All had seemed well, as his forces held the planet in check and the war went on. Siess had worried a little bit when word came that the attack on Corneria had failed, due to the untimely intervention of none other than the Starfox Team, the group of Arwings and Arwing pilots whom the Justicars, passing on the word of the Lord of Flames, had warned were the greatest possible threat.

That news hadn't shook him as much as the defeat of their Armada at Sector Y, a space battle which pitted the bulk of the Primal's extra ships against Corneria's last line. Fifteen Arwings had flown point in the counterattack, and wiped out the main command ship and even the Hydrian Squadron. Shortly after, Meteor Squadron had been recalled to the ancient Homeworld, leaving Kunzerd without his strongest fighter squadron at his disposal. That was the worst omen of all, and almost as soon as they'd gone, the fleet that had crushed their ships appeared in his airspace.

With neither side willing to risk the damage of an all-out thrust of their capital ships, the battle for Darussia took place on the ground and in the atmosphere, with only skirmishers sent to keep the larger vessels from getting any bright ideas. Even with a confirmed nine Arwings flying against them, Siess's men had kept the Cornerian thrust at a standstill through good planning and their sizable planetside defenses. A standstill wasn't a solution, though.

It wasn't a crushing victory, and that was what he needed. Praetor Siess stared out of the forward looking shielded window of his ship's bridge, mulling it over. Not even his flagship, the _Firestarter,_ could tip the scales.

"Praetor, we have ships coming out of hyperdrive."

Kunzerd, an elite Primal, had hair the color of charcoal on top of his head and pale skin underneath his uniform. He turned to the bridge crewmember who had sounded the alert. "Friend or foe?"

There was a moment of lapsed time as the radar accommodated the phased in ships. The relieved officer looked back. "Ours, sir. They're Helion fighters…ID Code matches Meteor Squadron!"

That brought a smile to Kunzerd's face. "Captain Hachsturm and his men have returned? Very good tidings. We may just break this foolish Cornerian push yet. Give me a line to him, I would speak with Simios."

The radio officer made the connection, then gestured to Siess. "I have him, Praetor. Shall I put it on the main viewscreen?"

Kunzerd nodded and backed away from the window. Its surface went from transparent to nearly opaque, and a picture flashed along the photoreceptors embedded in the glasssteel.

"Captain Hachsturm. It's good to see you again."

_"And you as well, Praetor Siess."_ The Elite Primal replied, smiling to his fellow upper-caste mate. _"Primal Command forwarded us an update of the situation here before we left Homeworld."_

"Then I won't waste time filling in the blanks." Siess gestured to Meteor 1. "But why are you returned to us, and without notice from Command?"

_"We have been taking part in a series of exhaustive exercises being led by Grandflight Gatlus, so that Meteor Squadron, and the other squadrons of high rank, will be better able to crush Starfox when they come to call. In addition, our Helion fighters have received several upgrades."_

"Is that so?" Siess was surprised. "Land here on the _Firestarter_. We'll refuel your fighters, and you can give me a more thorough description of your recent achievements."

"Sir, are you sure that's wise?" His Sub-Commander questioned. "What if Starfox should come here?"

_"I doubt that very much, Sub-Commander." _Hachsturm said, a scowl darkening his features. _"Starfox seems to be attacking targets the main Cornerian force does not. Our chances of seeing them here are quite minimal."_

The Praetor was surprised at the announcement; he'd heard nothing from Command about any recent losses. Perhaps they felt it would further weaken morale, or they were suddenly keeping the various extensions of their armed forces in the dark about the activities of the rest. Either way, that lack of transparency was not the usual form of the Justicars.

"Land on my ship, Captain Hachsturm." Praetor Siess repeated. "It seems we have much to discuss."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Command Planning Center_

_7:19 A.M._

Pugsley Femmick was one of the most visible, and likable, members of the crew aboard the _Wild Fox_. An original member of the Ursa Station crew complement, he'd remained loyal even after the Primals destroyed Project Seraphim's original installation. The squat-faced canine was forty pounds over his weight limit and was never without a grease-stained apron, but he always had a smile and smelled delicious.

This morning, the aroma of citrus and confectioner's sugar wafted off of his muscular arms, making the team salivate even before he'd lifted the lid off of his morning entrée.

"Mmm." Dana couldn't stop herself from making a satisfied noise as the steam from another batch of his patented "Gutbuster" sticky rolls slapped her in the face. "Did you hit this batch with an orange glaze, Pugs?"

"Not exactly." The head cook grinned. "You'll smell the orange, but I used my special lemon icing this morning. You folks enjoy now." He motioned to a cart behind him. "Coffee and water's already waiting for you."

Wallaby dove on the platter, putting an enormous roll in each hand. "You're the best, Pugs!"

"Wallaby, manners." Captain Hound muttered. He slid over a napkin and the youngest member of the 21st Squadron sheepishly dropped one of his rolls on it.

Pugs excused himself, and the team dug in.

A few minutes of gorging later, Executive Officer Tom Dander wiped a fleck of food from the corner of his mouth and cleared his throat. "All right, let's go ahead and get started."

"Uh, begging your pardon, XO, but aren't we missing the general?" Milo asked.

The orange-haired tomcat poured himself another cup of coffee. "Ordinarily, he would lead this meeting, yes. Circumstances this time around, however, dictate that I run the briefing."

"Meaning he's finally getting some sleep." Captain Hound surmised, for those not familiar with standard military protocols. Dander coughed politely.

He activated the holoprojector on the conference table, and the room lights dimmed. Lylat's map appeared in the photonic rotating image.

"First off, congratulations on yesterday's sortie to Aquas. If that Primal listening post had been turned on, we would have had a much harder time keeping our current location hidden."

Damer nudged Rourke playfully. "And who pulled that drone off your tail again?"

"Shut it, Ostwind." Rourke dismissed him. "New day, new mission."

"If you boys don't mind, I'd like to know what we're up against today." Terrany said. She gestured to Dander. "Sorry, go ahead."

The tomcat raised an eyebrow, but did not rise to the remark.

"Anyhow. Today, we're splitting the 21st off of Starfox. We've got two high priority missions that need to be taken care of. Captain Hound, you and your men will rendezvous with a pair of Albatross transports in Sector Y. Their mission is to proceed to a series of interstellar checkpoints and deploy a set of replacement _Shadow_ class observation relay satellites. The Primals tore out a large swath of our network when they came in, and the Joint Forces Chiefs wants our eyes and ears back. Your mission is to keep them safe." Dander paused for a breath. "Though your drop points will only have a limited period of exposure before FTL reactivation, there is a chance, especially since you will be working in enemy territory, that they will be discovered. If force is brought to bear, you must either neutralize it or delay the Primals long enough for the transports to escape. At no point, if you are forced into retreat, will you fly directly to Katina. The Primals can draw a straight line as well as we can."

"Simple, straightforward, and with luck, boring." Hound nodded. "We'll get it done, Tom."

"See that you do." Dander switched his attention to the members of the Starfox Team and zoomed the map of Lylat closer to Darussia.

"Now, for the second part of this mess. After your victory in the Battle of Sector Y, Admiral Bearnam Markinson ordered his battle group to the planet of Darussia. The latest reports indicate that his push has reached a stalemate, with control of the planet's surface still largely in Primal hands. The Primal Fleet has managed to keep his larger ships from closing in, and they've lost contact with our ground units. Worse, the Primals have employed a ground-based megalaser, which has systematically shot down every search and rescue craft sent after the Armored Cavalry and Infantry. The Arwings under his command are already committed to running interference against the Primal fighter groups and shooting down ship-killing cruise missiles."

Dander looked to Rourke. "I imagine you can fill in the blanks, lieutenant."

"Markinson asked for reinforcements, and you plan on giving us to him for the push."

"In a nutshell." Dander clicked his remote again, changing to an image of the Primal megalaser, which looked like more of a fortress with its foreboding weapon like a terrible lightning rod atop its peak. It bristled with defenses that made an aerial strike suicide. "Specifically, there is a Reservist missing in action who you will be looking for. His name is Major Avery Boskins, and he goes by the nickname "Ironbeak". He's the commander of the Cornerian 14th Reserve Brigade. Markinson believes that a strong ground-based assault could bring that megalaser down and break the deadlock on Darussia. The Joint Chiefs have determined that a _Landmaster_ attack vehicle would be the optimal unit for the task…and Ironbeak Boskins is the one driver on the ground with any experience behind the wheel."

"You never make things easy on us, do you?" Rourke complained. "We're supposed to fly into a warzone, without any support, get planetside without being shot down by the Primals' defense weapon, locate somebody who's…wait, are we even sure he's still alive?"

"Major Boskins and his unit were last reported in a position now a kilometer behind enemy lines." Dander explained. "In spite of that, Admiral Markinson believes that his chance of survival is quite high. And besides, Terrany owes him on."

A confused Terrany blinked. "How do you figure that?"

"It was his team that rescued you when you crash-landed in Corneria City." Dander said. He looked back to Rourke. "To answer your original question, yes, we expect you to do all that. More importantly, you will be escorting a _Rondo_ transport planetside as well."

"You had to go and open your big mouth." Dana grumbled at Rourke.

"The transport will be carrying a Model C Landmaster, recently refurbished at Arspace Dynamics and specially modified with the latest technical gear. It should be arriving here within a few hours. My advice is that you report down to Hangar 5 and meet with Wyatt."

"Wyatt?" Damer said quizzically. "What for?"

XO Dander smiled, saying nothing as he disengaged the room's holoprojector and brought the lights back up.

"Dismissed."

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Hangar Bay 5_

The members of the 21st Squadron and the Starfox team commandeered an oversized jeep and filled it to capacity. Had it not been for their familiarity with each other, the ride would have been awkward. Instead, with Hound driving and Milo in the front passenger seat, it ended up as more of a family vacation from Hell in miniature.

"Would you get your damn elbow outta my face already?" Damer snapped at Wallaby. The marsupial pouted and repositioned himself, inadvertently slapping Rourke in the side of the head with his oversized tail.

"Geez, watch where you're swinging that thing, rookie!" Rourke flexed his jaw, fighting off the sting.

"How in the Creator's name do you keep comfortable in an Arwing with that torpedo sticking out of your pants?" Dana asked.

"Hey!" Wallaby whined.

"Easy, he shoves it up his ass during missions." Damer joked.

"HEY!" Wallaby cried out.

"Enough!" Hound whipped his head back to them and glared. "One more outburst like that, and I swear to God we'll _walk_ the rest of the way!"

The back of the jeep went quiet, but a few seconds later, as Hound pulled off of the tarmac, Terrany got in the last word.

"Mom, are we there yet?"

The jeep exploded into a fit of giggling, and Hound gave Milo an exasperated look. The raccoon offered up a half smile and shrugged. "You get used to it, captain."

"I sure hope not." Hound shook his head.

They reached the outdoor hangar a little bit later, and the seven pilots piled out as quick as they could. Wyatt stepped out from the hangar's interior and glanced out from underneath his billed cap.

"There you all are! Come on inside, you're gonna _love this!_"

"Oh boy." Rourke sounded worried. Terrany came up beside him as they walked in, and asked the necessary question.

"What's wrong, Rourke?"

"Easy." Dana answered for her flight lead. "The last time Wyatt said we were going to love something, the uplink helmet your brother was trying out nearly electrocuted him."

"He got better, though." Milo reminded them all diplomatically. "Not every idea Wyatt has ends up exploding in our faces."

"Just most of them." Rourke grimly concluded. "Well, come on. We might as well see what our team mascot cooked up this time."

The pilots waded through the sea of engineers and equipment, joining Wyatt in the center of the hangar. The four Seraph Arwings of the Starfox team stood on display, looking polished and ready for battle. Wyatt gestured up to them dramatically.

"BEHOLD!"

The honored guests looked from Wyatt to their aircraft, less enthused than Project Seraphim's lead engineer.

Wyatt blinked. "Well?"

"Well…what?" Rourke retorted. "Those are our 'Wings. So what?"

The black bear, Ulie Darkpaw, lumbered into their circle. "So _what?"_ He repeated incredulously. "Don't you notice anything different?"

They all peered closer, and sharp-eyed Milo detected the change in the fighter's fuselage.

"It looks like you cut off some of the belly and put in a compartment."

"Ding ding ding!" Wyatt bubbled happily, clapping his hands. "Precisely!"

Rourke turned to Ulie. "All right, what did your boss do to himself this time?"

Ulie lowered his voice to a whisper. "Eight high-caffeine energy drinks within 20 minutes of each other around midnight. He wanted to finish these mods before you went off today. Now hush up and be nice to him, before he collapses from exhaustion." Ulie punched Rourke in the shoulder for good measure, then rejoined Wyatt's energetic joyride. "Why don't you explain it to 'em, boss?"

"Certainly, Mr. Darkpaw. Let's see what's behind door number one!"

Wyatt took three impressive hops to the first Arwing in the set and accessed a recessed mechanism on the craft's underside. With a hiss of releasing hydraulics, the new compartment opened up and dropped its contents into view.

Dana recognized the assembly sitting in the compartment's lowered equipment cradle. "That's a smart bomb launcher."

"Exactly." Wyatt walked the length of the four-meter long chambered device, grinning like a maniac. "What we have done is gutted the smart bomb launcher out of all of your Seraphs, expanded the interior space with more than a fair amount of creative wiring and structural reinforcement, and made your boomstick completely modular. We can remove it, work on it, and replace it in far less time than it used to take."

"I sense that that isn't the only thing you did, Toad." Rourke pointed out. "With you, there's always an asterisk."

Wyatt looked to Ulie and winked. "There, you see how well they know me? It's so great to have my genius understood!"

"Genius wouldn't be the word I'd use." Dana groused under her breath, earning a sharp look from Ulie. Wyatt failed to notice the breach of civility, and moved to the next Seraph in line.

"And now, let's see what's behind door number two." Another movement of hidden switches and releases brought the second "Modular" component out of its hiding place. Unlike the cylindrical barrel of the smart bomb launcher, the new piece of equipment resembled a large, segmented candy bar along its top…if candy bars were painted gunmetal black, of course.

Wyatt stooped slightly and motioned them closer. "Doesn't look like much, I know. But this is the heart of the modular weapons bay, what I've been doodling diagrams of in my sleep!"

"He has, actually." Ulie confirmed, stretching out the straps of his blue work coveralls. "Drooling on them too."

Warily, the seven pilots moved in closer. Wyatt reached underneath the strange box and detached something with a slight metallic _thunk_. Standing back up, he brought the device over for inspection.

"Okay, pop quiz." He propped the conical machine up and let out a deranged giggle. "What's this?"

Rourke reached out and tapped it. "That's a Godsight Pod. You mean to tell me that this thing is a…"

Wyatt whipped the GSP back so quickly that he banged Rourke's finger with it. "YES!" Wyatt let out a wild shriek of joy. He twirled about, alternately clutching the pod to his chest and whipping it into the air. "I've invented an Arwing portable Godsight Pod launcher! GENIUS!"

Again, the team looked to Ulie, and the black bear shrugged. "He's fine."

"If you say so." Damer said, clearly not convinced.

"Considering how we've used Godsight Pods to augment our sphere of awareness during combat, this actually makes a lot of sense." Terrany reflected. "But what do you do when you want to retrieve them?"

"That's easy." Wyatt said. "Simply fly by them, and the Draw Effect'll kick in and have them rotate around your shields. Your ODAI can then issue a recall command, and the GSPs will put themselves back into storage inside your modular weapons bay."

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?" Dana laughed. "Boy, this is going to make things interesting. And we get to choose which setup we use on missions?"

"Unless you're overruled by a direct order from the general, yes. You all have final say on whether you get G-Bombs or Godsight Pods for a sortie."

"Give me the pods, then." Terrany winked. "Kit and I are outstanding with increased visual references."

"Not to mention the optical interlink they provide is really handy for secure communications." Milo seconded. "I'll go with the GSP setup as well."

"Thanks, Wyatt, but I'll stick to bombs for now." Rourke countered.

"Bombs here as well, Toad." Dana added.

"Well, this is terrific news and all, but I don't see why we had to come down as well." Captain Hound tapped his foot. "It doesn't affect us any, and a memo could've accomplished the same thing."

"Well, I was going to be coy about why I invited the 21st Squadron down, but if you're going to be grumpy about it…" Wyatt tried to sound upset, but failed and ended up breaking into another grin. He whistled to the back of the hangar. "Sal! Simkins! Open 'er up!"

The pilots watched curiously as a spotted tomcat and a blond-haired dog started to push the back doors of the hangar apart.

Wyatt twirled his hands around one another, letting out a guiding whistle. "And behind door number three…"

Standing outside the back of Hangar Bay 5, an engineering miracle stood proudly, gleaming in the morning sunlight. Hidden from view like the present it was, a completed X-1 Seraph Arwing announced itself with a fanfare that shook the 21st Squadron.

Wyatt looked at Wallaby Preen and winked. "Happy birthday, kid."

"Oh wow." Wallaby went bug-eyed. "Oh, _wow._ OH YEAH! Is that…is that all mine, Wyatt?"

"You bet it is." Wyatt confirmed, the nod of his head going sluggish. "Yeah, I know you've been waiting for an upgrade furra while now, but we've been kinda…busshie." He wobbled back and forth, and Ulie let out a soft groan.

"Oh, there he goes. Whipman! Garfield! Dunk tank!"

A squirrel and a lynx raced across the hangar and reached the others just in time. Wyatt's eyes rolled up back into his head and he fell backwards, unconscious. The two technicians caught him and hoisted him up, then looked to Ulie.

"Off to the side, chief?" The squirrel, Whipman asked.

"Yeah." Ulie scratched his chest. "And make sure the water's lukewarm. We're not trying to do a frog boil, all right?"

"You got it, chief!" With Wyatt in tow, the technicians marched off.

"Jeez, is he gonna be all right?" Rourke asked.

"Ahh, Wyatt's always been like this. He runs his battery down hard, and he crashes hard. We've all gotten used to it, and it's a good example for the boys to follow." Ulie explained. "He's not dead, his body finally forced him into a sleep cycle. He'll come out of it in about four hours. Best thing we can do for him is lay him off to the side, floating in a bath of water so he can detox from all that caffeine."

"You let people sleep in your workspaces, Darkpaw?" Captain Hound questioned.

The black bear gave a toothy grin. "Where does a Toad sleep? Wherever he wants. Getting back to it, though. Your Seraph, Wallaby, has its own modular weapons bay; since we were building yours from scratch, it took less time to put it in at the start than it did to refit the other four. So you be sure and let us know what you want to fly with, bombs or Pods. I just put in your ODAI and installed the OS a few hours ago. I imagine you've gotten the basics of how your ODAI will develop, but just remember that you're not using Dana's this time around. You have a fresh one, which means it'll be very mechanical until you've Merged a couple of times with it. After that, it'll start to pick up emotional and conversational tics, and line up with you a little bit more. I think you'll be surprised how much it'll stop sounding like an A.I. after a while."

"Mine sounds like a drinking buddy." Rourke clarified. "For reference. Well, Ulie, your team's outdone itself this time. I can't imagine how much work all of this took."

"A bunch, and you're paying dearly for it." Ulie crowed. "Aah, the nice thing about working for a mercenary unit."

"Wait a minute, you're _charging us_ for the upgrades?" Dana exclaimed. The tigress took a step forward and narrowed her eyes. "Can you do that?"

"Arspace Dynamics regulation 474-C: All work will be paid for by the contractee at time of completion. And don't worry. The mods only set you back about four hundred thousand credits. Just try not to crash your jets and up the price tag."

"How in Lylus's name do you expect us to pay for it?"

"Oh, that's easy. We just subtracted it from your wartime payroll account." Ulie shrugged. "I'm sure all you'll need to do is fly another two missions or so to make up the difference. Hell, you get lucky and trigger-happy on Darussia, you might break even with only one sortie."

"Oh, boy." Wallaby muttered. "If modifying their planes set Starfox back that much, how much do I owe you for building a whole new _Seraph_?"

Ulie winked. "You owe me squat, kid. The SDF footed the bill for yours."

Wallaby blinked. "Seriously?"

Terrany slapped herself in the forehead. "Oh, this is so unfair."

"You ever get tired of living the life of a free-wheeling mercenary ace, McCloud, you're welcome to join up again and fly under my command." Captain Hound chuckled, slapping his youngest wingman, now a fully-fledged Seraph pilot, on the back. "There you go, Wallaby. See? Being in the military proper has its advantages."

Rourke gave Captain Hound a flying middle finger.

* * *

_Katina_

_SDF Reclamation Staging Point Alpha (RSP-A)_

Lieutenant Buck Fowler, the Papetoon Resistance trooper who had been the first to coordinate with the Starfox team after landfall, had found himself appointed the liaison officer in charge of working with the newly arrived SDF personnel. The bulk of the Cornerian-based transports and personnel went with much appreciated supplies to the ruins of the few cities Papetoon once held claim to. There hadn't been that many to begin with after the Insurrection was put down, and the Primals had left little else.

By last census, 186,470 animals had called Papetoon home. The headcounts that the relief troopers were reporting from the refugee camps barely topped 99,000. Almost half of their population had been obliterated because of the Primals, a blood debt that those who were left would never forgive.

Right now, it took every bit of self-control not to attack the prisoner in front of him. Fowler drummed his feathered fingertips on his arm, his unblinking stare resting on one Captain Lavitz Zovius. Zovius was a Primal fighter pilot; the lead fighter jock in command of "Geode Squadron."

The captain sat at the table, one arm tucked in a sling and the other handcuffed to his seat's armrest. The Primal had been captured by a Resistance patrol an hour after being shot down by Starfox. His arm was broken because he'd made the mistake of fighting back.

On the surface, Zovius was eerily similar to the various simian subgroups that populated the Lylat System. He had the same facial structure, the same hair coloration…

And the same smug attitude.

Zovius looked up, matching Fowler's glare with a disinterested stare. "You seem upset, even for an inferior creature. I've heard your face can get stuck if you leave it like that."

The red-throated rooster snarled, twisting his beak into a sharp curve.

"That's enough, lieutenant." A gray-quilled hedgehog in the doorway of the detention block cautioned him.

Fowler looked over his shoulder. "Who are you?"

The hedgehog pulled a clipboard out from under his arm. "Just someone keenly aware you were about to attack our prisoner. That simply won't do." Given how plain his uniform looked, and the lack of decorations, it was clear he served in intelligence.

"This son of a bitch is responsible for the deaths of thousands!" Fowler angrily shouted. The hedgehog remained straight-faced and unaffected.

"You're dismissed, lieutenant. I'll handle it from here."

Fowler made one last angry cluck, then stormed out of the room. Zovius smirked as the warrior disappeared.

"Is he always so sour-faced, or do I just have that effect on him?"

The new interrogator briskly stepped to the center of the room and slammed the Primal's face into the table. Zovius rebounded with his eyes shut and his mouth open. _"Riss 'SHIK!"_ Zovius hissed.

Calmly, the hedgehog sat down opposite of him, setting his clipboard on top of his crossed leg.

"Now that you know the effect I can have on _you_, Primal, why don't we talk?"

Blood streamed out of Lavitz's crushed nose, and he spat at his interrogator, missing by several inches. "Freeze in Hell, weakling."

The hedgehog chuckled and reached into the breast pocket of his coat. He unfolded a set of old-fashioned spectacles and slipped them on. "Amusing. You Primals worship a deity known as the Lord of Flames, and your maledictions seem to line up with that. I'll have to make a note."

"By all means, go right ahead." Zovius tilted his head back to slow the bleeding. "It will be one of the few things you take from me, heathen."

The hedgehog shrugged, unfazed. "Captain Lavitz Zovius. Hmm. You are not the highest ranking Primal we've captured…that honor belongs to another taken here on Papetoon. But you are one of a handful of pilots made a prisoner of war. I imagine you should feel very privileged."

Unwilling to tip his head back down, Captain Zovius scowled and said nothing.

The hedgehog scribbled a note onto his clipboard. "From what I understand, the pilots of your Primal Armada are very prideful. Do you glean some sense of satisfaction when you die in a dogfight?"

"A true warrior faces his enemy with courage. They do not rely on tricks or shadows. We announce our names to our enemies, so the Lord of Flames will know us when we perish and pass on to the Radiant Mists!" Angrily, Lavitz stretched his handcuffed arm out as far as it could go and pointed at his accuser. "You do not even have the courage to share your name, _vermin."_

The hedgehog laughed. "Well, I see we hit a nerve there, captain. Very well. My name is Lynch. My job is to learn everything there is to know about you."

"Lynch." Zovius scoffed. "A pitiful name for a pitiful creature. You will learn nothing from me."

"You think so?" Lynch countered, lifting his clipboard up for the Primal to see. "So far, I have established the basis for your religion, your aggrandized sense of racial superiority, your military's warrior code, and your enhanced status of pride. And I also learned your head bounces like a balloon when I slam it against a hard surface, Lavitz."

To this, the Primal pilot finally looked at him again, eyes burning like coals. Lynch merely smiled, infuriatingly at ease.

"Imagine what I'll learn in a few hours." Lynch concluded, winking.

The Primal looked back up at the ceiling of his prison. "Lavitz Zovius. Captain. Eight-four-five-two-one-nine-zero."

Lynch chuckled and wrote something else down.

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Runway 1_

Slippy sat back in the motorized recreational cart assigned for his use, a hand against his forehead to shield his eyes. Three _Rondo_ class transports came in on their final approach, the Arspace Dynamics logo emblazoned on their sides.

"Hmm, I was only expecting two." The old amphibian murmured.

Relaxed in the driver's seat, his personal assistant Evelyn nodded her head once. "What's in them, sir?"

"Landmasters, Miss Cloudrunner." Slippy explained. "A throwback to my father's lessons. You never get rid of anything. We have two Model C Landmasters that we kept in storage, and one of them has been made ready for war. As soon as its transport has refueled, Starfox is taking off with it to make a special delivery."

"That sounds thrilling." Evelyn said, clearly not thrilled at all.

Slippy rubbed at his wrinkled throat pouch. "Say, how's your boy doing? You haven't brought him around much these days."

"Oh, I enrolled him at a local school. I got tired of worrying about him wandering someplace unsafe, and he belongs in school."

"Ah, well. I'm sure it was a nice vacation while it lasted." Slippy sighed. His secretary gave him a long look, and he coughed and looked away. "Well, anyhow. Just remember, when he's all grown up and you're my age, you get to cause as much trouble as you'd like."

"That explains so much about your attitude, sir." Evelyn managed not to roll her eyes and gestured to the runway. One of the _Rondos_ was refueling. The other two were taxiing towards the _Wild Fox._ "I think we should go see what the fuss is about."

"Agreed." Slippy fastened his seatbelt and rapped his walking stick on the side of their cart. "Make it so, Miss Cloudrunner."

The two Rondos came to a stop within the shadow of Slippy's ultimate vessel. They began to offload personnel and equipment immediately, turning the tarmac and concrete strip to the landing pad into a mess of jumpsuits and workboots. A small contingent from the odd Rondo out, however, was more professionally dressed.

Slippy squinted as they approached, trying to identify the out of place people. "Evey, I don't suppose you can make out who's in that gaggle of suits?"

Fifty meters out, Evelyn frowned. "I can. And I'm not sure what he's doing here."

The motorized golf cart finally came into view of the landing party just as Executive Officer Tom Dander stepped out to meet them.

A professionally dressed lioness walked up to the tomcat. "Marcia Cubbington, aide to the Senator."

"Tom Dander, XO of the _Wild Fox_." He responded warily. "Is this government business? We weren't briefed on any visitors, and I'm not exactly too keen on politicians after that debacle at Lunar Base."

The man in charge of the out of place ensemble walked up to Dander. He was a middle-aged, blue-spotted amphibian, and his smile was as subdued as his suit jacket. "I'm here unofficially, actually. As Chairman of the Appropriations Committee, I was made aware of certain transfers of equipment from Arspace off-planet. I merely followed the trail."

"In other words, Tad, you didn't ask if you could come visit, you just decided to hop by as an uninvited guest." Slippy Toad called out from behind. The Senator turned, meeting the dour gaze of the elderly engineer.

The blue frog smiled, showing displeasure to match his tone. "I prefer Theodore now. I haven't gone by Tad since high school, old man. And I see you have a new secretary. Scared the old one off again, did you?"

Uneasy and confused, Dander looked between the two staring frogs. Finally, Slippy broke off eye contact and nodded to him.

"Mr. Dander, I don't believe you've been formally introduced. This is Theodore F. Toad…"

"_Senator_ Theodore Toad." The blue amphibian interrupted.

Slippy drummed his fingers along the top of his walking stick.

"My son." He finished.

* * *

_Medical Bay_

Dr. Sherman Bushtail stared at his graph of the Merge synch percentages of the Starfox Team, which now also had an additional marker for Wallaby Preen as well. The graph was constantly updated, kept current after every sortie. For detailed examinations, he could even combine E.E.G. and combat flight recorder data to form an overall picture. And none of those things answered the question that worried him the most.

Nurse Lynette Ermsdale stepped into his office and knocked on the open door. "Excuse me, doctor."

Sherman leaned back away from his computer monitor. "Yes, Miss Ermsdale, what is it?"

The gray-haired rabbit was the model of professionalism. "You told me to remind you you're giving General Grey his physical in an hour."

"Oh yes, thank you." Bushtail sighed. "The one good thing about being grounded is we can finish up these fitness reports."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir?"

"Like it's ever stopped you before." The simian commented blithely.

"…what exactly were you working on?"

"I was comparing hypotheses for why Terrany is so skilled at Merging…and why she is somehow able to hear KIT's thoughts. Given how her synch ratio is vastly improved over the others, I can't shake the feeling that the two are dependent variables."

"Maybe." His subordinate reasoned. She sat down in his visitor's chair. "All right. I'm a fresh set of ears. Run down the list for me."

Bushtail held up three fingers, ticking them off. "Possibility one. KIT, being a digitized animal consciousness, would cause any pilot he Merged with to have certain mimetic "aftershocks." Two, Terrany is somehow wired to be more receptive to such transfers, and the rest of her team isn't. Three, both KIT and Terrany share a cause to this unique and disturbing phenomenon of mental symbiosis."

"Can you prove any of those, doctor?" Miss Ermsdale asked. "The last time you did a sweep of her EEG, you couldn't decipher any unique characteristics."

"Hard to know what you've found if you don't know what you're looking for." He groused. "It's not like I have anything to compare her to."

Nurse Ermsdale nodded consolingly, but was unable to say anything else. Dr. Bushtail's eyes boggled wide, and he slammed a hand on his desk. "Of course! Damnit, it's so rudimentary!"

"What? What is?"

Sherman rose up and went to the communications panel on the wall. "Hey, robot…Er, ROB. This is Dr. Bushtail. Are you there?"

_"I am always here." _Came the mechanically precise reply. _"What can I do for you, crewman Bushtail?"_

"I'm sending one of my nurses on an errand, and she'll need your assistance."

_"Is this errand in some way relevant to the preservation of the _Wild Fox_ or its crew?"_

"Very." Bushtail closed off the connection and looked back to his assistant. "Now, even though this will sound crazy, I need you to listen carefully."

She did.

And it did sound crazy.

* * *

Father and son again, Slippy Toad and his estranged counterpart slowly walked along the floor of the _Wild Fox's_ launch bay.

"You know, I didn't expect you'd ever come back to say hello." Slippy opened up. "You and I didn't exactly part on good terms."

"Perhaps that was because you were stealing Wyatt from me."

"Hey, Wyatt had a choice about what he wanted to do with his life. He _chose_ to be an engineer, Tad, something _you_ never understood."

The blue amphibian let the remark slide, though he wanted nothing more than to give his old man a tongue lashing. "Where is my son, anyways?"

"Last I'd heard, he was taking a well deserved nap after his latest all-nighter. The boy's been breaking his back keeping Starfox in the air."

"Yes, I understand you recently sent the SDF a rather substantial billing statement. Forty-five _billion_ credits."

"We did just build a brand new Seraph Arwing for a member of the regular SDF that flies with this outfit." Slippy argued. "Those things aren't cheap. And since this ship was damaged keeping the 4th Fleet intact at Sector Y, I figured they should foot the bill."

"Of course you'd think that." Senator Toad rolled his large eyes. "Did it ever once occur to you that there might be people who'd prefer to keep our budget reined in?"

Slippy's cane came to rest. The old wart looked to his middle-aged son, disgust his most prominent feature. "So that's why you're here, then. Came to bitch about Arspace like we were some money pit. So much for this being an unofficial visit." He gave his head a shake and started walking again. "I've got work to do. If you have any other questions, General Grey or Officer Dander can accommodate you. Just stay away from the engineering staff. They've got enough to worry about right now."

"You can't keep me from seeing my son, dad!" Senator Toad shouted angrily.

Slippy slowly turned his head and shoulders around, glowering at his offspring. "You pushed him away first, Tad."

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Hangar Bay 5_

_12:15 P.M._

While others would be sitting down for lunch and a beer, the seven Arwing pilots stationed aboard the _Wild Fox_ had a different menu in mind.

The engineers were mostly cleared out, save for a skeleton crew led by Ulie Darkpaw that was running final diagnostics. They had been replaced by the second wave of handlers, flight crew personnel who had come from Ursa Station and followed the 'Wings to their new home. The ground crew used handheld attractor beams to nudge the last of the Arwings clear of the hangar's confines and into full daylight.

When the all clear hand signal was given by the chief of the flight crew, the pilots of Starfox and the 21st Squadron started from their stationary line towards their jets. They zipped up their flight gear as they went; full bodysuits for Milo and the 21st, more informal vests for Dana and Rourke, and Terrany stayed in her customary brown leather flight jacket and khakis.

"Okay, everyone. Last chance for a bathroom break." Rourke announced. "Speak now or hold it in."

Captain Hound snorted. "You could have said something inspirational there, you know."

"True, but that just wouldn't be our style." Dana smirked. "How about this? Let's go kick some Primal ass."

"Well said, Miss Tiger." Damer Ostwind replied. "Of course, you forgot to add how we should try not to get shot down today."

"You mention it, you show you're afraid of it. And if you're afraid of it, you give it the power to let it happen." Milo said. The raccoon wore a mask of absolute calm and focus. "Fly into battle expecting to win, but with caution, and you'll come out alive."

Wallaby, excited to have his own Seraph after only borrowing Dana's for a short time, looked up and down their line with eager eyes. "You know, somebody should put a camera on us right now. Slow-mo it, add some music. That'd be dynamite footage for the holo-reels."

Hound let out an exasperated sigh. "Lieutenant, I'm blaming you for this. You're a bad influence on my boy. Preen, where you get off spouting that kind of nonsense?"

As they got closer, the pilots went from a determined walk to a brisk jog. The various ways that they climbed aboard their aircraft only served to highlight how diverse Arwing pilots truly were.

Captain Hound climbed up the Model K's retracting ladder at a steady, reserved pace. Damer mimicked his captain, but clambered up the steps as if it were a tree. Wallaby used his powerful legs, making a quick hop to the side of his Seraph, rebounding off of the fuselage, making a second rebound off of the port wing before he came to rest straddling the cockpit with one hand on the canopy. Milo mimicked Captain Hound's methodical entry, Dana and Terrany skipped ladder steps on their way up. Rourke climbed on the bottom rung, ordered his AI to retract the ladder, and let the plane bring him up to his seat.

Helmets were slipped on, canopies lowered. The landing struts of the Arwings retracted as maneuvering repulsors kicked on and the G-Diffusers started to wake up. One by one, each blue and silvery white superfighter flickered with the activation of deflector shields, and the ships pressurized themselves, sealing their pilots inside their immersive cocoons.

Inside his Seraph, Rourke checked his diagnostics panel as the canopy flickered to full opacity, then reverted back to normal. "Okay, ODAI. Load up the display." One by one, various pieces of information floated up to full view on the canopy HUD and minimized, taking their places along the bottom, sides, and top of his augmented view of his surroundings. Airspeed, altitude, systems monitoring, shield status, pilot biometrics, radar, communications, subspace phase drivers, and everything else. A blip popped up registering new ship's hardware, giving Rourke a second to note that the "Modular weapons bay" was up and running perfectly with his smart bomb launcher set to go.

**"On your signal, boss. This bird's hot and loaded."**

"Lieutenant O'Donnell, all systems green. Everybody, sound off."

"Dana here. I'm good to go."

"Milo. Check."

"Captain Hound. My ship's functioning. Control surfaces at nominal response."

"Damer. Looks like Wyatt and his boys did a bang-up job with our ships again."

"This thing is so _cool!_" Wallaby gushed, breaking the stoic mood.

Terrany laughed over the radio. "Lylus, was I that bad?"

"Ah, you didn't say as much, but you hollered like a maniac." Dana teased her. "All ships are go, lieutenant."

"All right then. Captain, why don't you and your boys go ahead and take off first? We'll stick around and make sure our Rondo gets up all right."

"A solid plan, Lieutenant O'Donnell." Captain Hound commended the Starfox flight lead. "Wallaby, Damer, I've got the lead. Follow me up and set your FTL drive system to follow."

The two Model K Arwings and the one lone Seraph of the 21st Squadron lit their engines and pushed to full thrust, coasting down the runway for fifty meters before their noses came up. With no trouble at all, they went fully airborne and streaked up for the atmosphere.

"Good luck, 21st." Rourke called after them.

"Good luck, Starfox." Captain Hound returned the sentiment.

Clustered as they were, Terrany could see into the cockpits of her three wingmen with ease. Rourke seemed troubled again, watching Captain Hound and his two wingmen fade in the distance.

She switched over to their team's personal channel. "Hey, they'll be okay, Rourke. We've gotta stay focused on us now. They've got to keep a transport vessel safe. We're flying into an active warzone."

"Yeah, I know." Rourke nodded once, then lit his main engines. "Okay, team. Follow me up and level out at 300 meters. _Town Crier_, launch when you're ready. We'll form up as you depart."

_"Roger that, Fox 1."_ The oddly named Rondo transport a kilometer across the air base radioed back. _"We're in your hands now."_

The four Seraph Arwings of Starfox Team jetted ahead and rose into a lazy circle above Deckmore Airbase.

"We've gotta think of some new callsigns." Rourke complained.

"As if we ever used them." Dana retorted. "And what's up with that Rondo's mission name? _Town Crier?_ I don't get it."

"Heh, I'm not surprised." Milo chuckled. "It's a throwback to an older time in history, my dear. Our transport vessel will be like the town criers of old once we reach Darussia. It's bringing the bad news."

"For the Primals." Terrany agreed. "A whole lot of bad news."

* * *

_Papetoon_

The hedgehog called Lynch had never laid a finger on Captain Zovius through the rest of the interview. Through powerful psychological manipulation, using the Primal's own beliefs and attitudes, he had chipped away at the pilot's resolve and resistance until it had crumbled.

Silently, Lynch made another notation on his clipboard. With a relaxed, almost sympathetic posture, he looked back up. "So you were talking about your pilot corps. You said that seven squadrons had been recalled to Venom."

"Yes." Zovius looked down at the table, broken.

"And you felt betrayed because of this?"

"Yes." Zovius responded, guided by his bitterness.

"Why were these seven flights recalled?"

"Because they were the best. For what purpose, I don't know. Squadrons only form up with one another for wargames or force reformations. And they never cooperate with one another?"

"Because of their honor?"

"No." Lavitz quickly disagreed. "Because of personal pride. The honor is in dying and service to the Lord of Flames. Pride is what keeps us distinct, scrambling for glory and rank. It is…"

"It's what caused you and your Squadron to be stationed here on Papetoon. Because you are of a lower rank among your air forces." Lynch paused, then added, "Because you are worthless and could not even die a warrior's death."

Zovius flinched as though the hedgehog had slapped him in the face.

Lynch stood up and tucked his clipboard back under his arm. "Do Primals believe in taking their own lives?"

"When it will deny our enemies victory." Zovius said, and for a moment, the spark of his former resistance resurfaced.

Lynch grunted. "So why didn't you kill yourself after you were shot down?"

The question went unanswered, and Lynch stepped out of the detention block.

Outside of the makeshift prison, Lieutenant Fowler confronted the hedgehog. "You were in there an awfully long time. Did you kill him"

"I'd be doing him a favor if I had, lieutenant." Lynch reasoned. "The disgrace he feels right now is worse than death. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

"You CSS?" Fowler demanded, trailing after him. The CSS, or Cornerian Security Service, was the top spy agency.

"If I was, Fowler, do you think I'd admit it?" Straight faced, Lynch walked into the base's communications center and marched to the officer in charge. He pulled out a pocket voice recorder he'd hidden in his jacket during the interview. "I need access to a secure station with an Omega Black transceiver."

The duty officer gave Lynch an appraising glance. "Authorization?"

"Charlie-Delta-Sierra-Seven-Niner-Four-Four-Lambda." Lynch rattled off quickly.

The duty officer checked the code against a list of cleared users on his datapad, blinking when he saw the security clearance for the tag he'd just been given.

"I…Right away. Sorry for the wait, sir." The officer motioned to a console in the corner, which was quickly vacated by its user.

"We all have our orders." Lynch brushed off the apology, marching to the station. The news he had to transmit could change the face of the Primal War forever.

* * *

_Sector Y_

The 21st Squadron had a relatively short jaunt through subspace to reach the green ionized nebula. The return was bittersweet as the one Seraph and two Model K Arwings maneuvered their way through the debris field left behind from years of fighting. Their radars began to scramble immediately after dropping into normal space.

"Man, this place is a mess." Wallaby complained. A fragment of plasteel bounced off of his forward deflectors, causing his shield gauge to decrease after the momentary flare. "Geez, was it this bad the last time we were here?"

"There's four generations of debris in this sensor-clouding miasma." Captain Hound told his young pilot. "There's the failed defense station that started this mess, the remnants of the Andross-Corneria engagement, the Insurgency's remains, and now what's left of SDF and Primal warships. That's a lot of scrap to avoid."

"And if the debris field doesn't get you, the ionizing radiation will." Damer added. "Kind of makes you glad your deflector shielding blocks that stuff, doesn't it?"

"Geez." Wallaby sighed a second time.

Captain Hound reached down to his systems control panel and brought up their route to the rendezvous. "All right. If our directions are correct, we should see the Albatross transport up ahead in about 1700 kilometers. Keep your head on a swivel, and watch out for debris on our course. Lasers are authorized if you need to blast through it."

Steadily, carefully, the three Arwings proceeded through Sector Y, vaping portions of scrap metal when it came too close for comfort. At standard thrust, the trek took them almost an hour and a half, counting detours and slowdowns.

Their patience was rewarded when they crested over the wreckage of an old Cornerian Corvette Cruiser and saw an Albatross drifting ahead, flashing its running lights.

"There it is." Captain Hound nodded. "About time, I thought they'd sent us on a wild goose chase."

"No offense to aboriginal geese, of course." Damer tittered.

_"Attention, inbound ships, this is the transport _Wagonwheel._ Identify yourselves."_

Hound thumbed his headset to match the broadcast channel. _"Wagonwheel_, this is the 21st Squadron. It's good to see you."

_"Good to see you as well, Arwings." _The Albatross radio tech replied. _"I'm glad you got an invitation to this party."_

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Hound smiled. "All right, where's our first jump taking us?"

_"We have a few satellites to activate around Sector X." _The Albatross answered. _"Set your FTL Drive to slave mode and we'll bring you along with us."_

"Roger that." Hound made the necessary adjustments with his control panel. "If we have to evac, what's our rally point?"

_"Lunar Base on Corneria's moon. Pray we don't have to use it." _The Albatross began to turn, and the Arwings followed.

"Well, here goes nothing." Wallaby remarked cheerfully.

"Here goes everything." Damer corrected his wingman.

The three Arwings and their transport shot off into subspace, leaving the ruins of 100 years of conflict behind them.

* * *

_SDF Controlled Darussian Space_

_4 Hours after Deployment from Katina_

The 17th "Raptor" Squadron was bone-tired, as days of extended combat and patrol sorties piled up on them. Typhoon Squadron, their counterparts, would surely bear similar signs of fatigue. To be truthful, the aerial combat maneuvering wasn't what grated on their nerves. It was the drudge of it, the plodding pace and their routine assignments that was doing them in.

In his cockpit, Captain Victor Korman rubbed a finger between his eyes. The lizard, Venomian by birth, did his best to stave off a yawn. In the battle of Sector Y, they had been reassigned to the Arwing-only battle group commanded by Brigadier General Arnold Grey, the military supervisor of the now publicly known Project Seraphim. The old dog's blitz strategy had completely ousted the Primal Armada in the span of an hour of ferocious flying.

By contrast, Admiral Markinson was holding his prized Arwings back from the front lines, not wanting to risk losing them. The panda just didn't have the same risk-taking guts that Grey did. At least it felt that way after four days and a stalemate.

"Raptor 1, freespeak?" Raptor 3, First Airman Daric Gavalan asked. The toucan was requesting being able to speak at length, instead of the usual restricted speech that wartime combat footing usually required.

Korman checked his radar; things had quieted down, and the Primals hadn't thrown any new drones at them in a while. The Primal designation was Splinter, but he and his boys had taken to calling them "Twigs." The nickname had apparently stuck, and the 5th was using it as well. Satisfied that their airspace wasn't about to get complicated anytime soon, Captain Korman grunted. "Anybody for freespeak, switch to Raptor private channel. Bring up the optics."

His commset squelched momentarily as he switched frequencies to their private squadron channel. Every Arwing Squadron had one of their own for just this reason, but the infrared optical interlink patch that they'd received from the _Wild Fox_ made sure that not even prying Primal ears could listen in. A radio transmission was one thing: LOSIR databeams aimed from one ship to another were another entirely.

"All right, three. What's on your mind?" Korman asked.

"Viper, how come we aren't flying down to the surface and taking that Primal defense turret out ourselves?" The tropical bird demanded. "I mean, this is why we're here. We're asskickers."

"We're also pilots who follow orders, three." Raptor 2 cut in. Viper's wingmate in the squadron, First Lieutenant Gunther Nash was a polar bear that crowded his cockpit's interior. He served as a foil to his flight lead's more surgical attitudes in most cases, and usually claimed that it was because he was warm-blooded and his leader was the opposite. "Much as I'd love to take this fight to the surface, Markinson's warned any of us from running sorties within firing range of that damn cannon. You saw what it did to the _Palmestris_."

"Yeah, but a blockade cruiser like the _Palmestris_ handles like a wounded bear compared to our 'Wings." Raptor 4 reminded them. There was a momentary pause before First Airman Titus Angor made an audible wince. "Er, no offense, Gunth."

"All right, you've all said your piece, so now you get to hear mine." Korman ended the argument. "We fly under the banner of the Space Defense Forces, and that means we follow the chain of command. We may not like our orders…fact is, I don't much care for them myself, but they're our Goddamn orders and you will Goddamn follow them. We're pilots, not mercenaries."

"Then how come Starfox, a buncha ragged merc pilots for hire, can fly in and blast through everything in their path and we gotta sit here with our thumbs up our asses on patrol duty?" Raptor 3 demanded.

"You wanna turn in your wings, Daric?" Vic Korman demanded with a sibilant hiss. "Go ahead, try and join up with Starfox after the firing squad's finished with you for abandoning your post. You fly how they tell you. How I tell you. I suggest that you keep that rainbow-colored beak of yours shut from now on, and save yourself a court martial for fomenting insurrection."

"Damn, Viper, that's cold, even for you." Raptor 2 whistled.

Korman seethed, regretting the permission he'd given. "Freespeak rescinded. Everyone back to mainline frequency."

The Raptors' private channel offered no further remarks, and Korman reverted his transceiver to the SDF's main radio frequency.

"Raptor 1 to _Vigilant._ Sensors clear, requesting status update."

_"Vigilant to Raptor 1. No enemy movement at this time. Remain on station."_

"Acknowledged." Korman answered back, a little more snarly than he'd intended. Inwardly, he cursed the stalling tactics of Markinson, but his was not to question, merely to serve. And he hadn't been given orders to fly on his own authority.

"Raptors, form up on my wing." Korman ordered. "Let's start the next patrol."

"Roger."

"Roger."

"Roger." All three of his wingmen answered back in a humbled, muted tone. Chastened by his harsh riposte, Raptors 2, 3, and 4 joined his side and started their next loop at the forward arc of the SDF's perimeter.

That was when their proximity alert went off, and five radar signatures suddenly dropped into SDF controlled airspace.

"Whoa, new signals!" Raptor 2 exclaimed, slightly deviating from military precision.

Four of the radar returns seemed very familiar to Captain Korman by their size alone, but when their IF/F tags switched on, he blinked in absolute disbelief.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

_"Hey, Viper. Sorry we're late, but we had to stop for a party favor." _Came the smug voice of Starfox's lead pilot, Rourke O'Donnell. _"Got any plans for the next hour?"_

"Slagging spacedust, it's Starfox!" Raptor 4 shrieked.

Captain Victor "Viper" Korman banked left and swung for the Seraph Arwings and the vessel they seemed to be escorting. "Raptor Squadron, form up. _Vigilant_, we're joining Starfox. Looks like they've got a plan."

_"Captain Korman, you have _not _been authorized to…"_

Korman blocked the main SDF channel and switched to Starfox's private channel, which he'd kept in his logs since Sector Y. "Hmm, didn't quite hear him there."

After a moment's delay, Raptor 2, 3, and 4 joined him on Starfox's frequency, linking up with the Seraphs over their LOSIR relays.

"Hey, Viper, what about following orders and not doing anything stupid?" Raptor 2 asked. Korman considered the bemused tone of Gunther's voice before responding to the polar bear.

"We are following orders, Gunth. At Sector Y, we were reassigned to the command of General Grey for combat duty alongside Starfox. Long as Starfox is around…we go where they go." They drew closer to the Seraph Arwings, which were flying in formation around a _Rondo_ class transport aimed for a descent towards the surface of Darussia.

"Sounds like you're using a loophole to get what you want." Gunther accused him.

"Ah, he just needed an excuse to fly the way he wanted." Raptor 4 chortled.

"I don't recall authorizing freespeak, gentlemen." Korman warned his wingmen. Finally, they came alongside the other Arwings, now eight in number.

"Captain, long as you're flying with Starfox, you should know we always say what's on our minds." O'Donnell cheerfully responded.

"Whether it's helpful or not." Sergeant Granger added.

* * *

_Flagship Vigilant_

"Damnit, get those Arwings back in formation!" Admiral Markinson barked out. The panda bear was growing angrier by the second.

Captain Gireau looked up from communications and turned his rainbow-colored beak sideways. "They're not answering our hails, admiral. They've probably moved to a private frequency."

Markinson dug his claws into the armrests of the _Vigilant's_ command chair. "Arwing pilots." He snapped. "I'd expect that kind of attitude from Starfox, but Captain Korman? What in the devil is he thinking?"

The communications officer broke in before anyone could answer the Admiral's question. "Sir, we're receiving a burst transmission from that transport ship Starfox is escorting."

"Decode it and bring it up, then." Markinson tapped his foot. "Let's see what they have to say for themselves."

The radioman worked quickly and brought up a datapad. Markinson read the message quickly, scowled, and got up. "I don't believe this."

Captain Gireau moved next to him. "Admiral?"

Markinson pushed the datapad into the toucan's chest, indicating he should read it.

"It seems that the CSC has been making plans of attack without consulting us. Starfox is going to try and take out that super defense turret on ground."

Gireau took his own reading of the orders and nodded. "Knowing those airheads, they won't _try_. They'll succeed."

"And _they'll_ get the credit." Markinson grunted. "Like Hell. Alert all ships. As soon as Starfox has taken out that gun, we're attacking the Primal's airspace. Recall Typhoon Squadron from patrol. If Raptor Squadron's going to go play hero with our resident mercenaries, I want our other squad on defense."

* * *

_Primal Flagship Firestarter_

Captain Mirios Hachsturm had offered pleasant conversation, as always. Praetor Seiss had listened intently as his fellow Elite Primal spoke of the training he had undergone at the Homeworld, the seven elite squadrons, and especially the upgrades that had been installed into their Helion warplanes.

Hachsturm swallowed down the last piece of his second biscuit and brushed the crumbs off of his flight suit. "What galls me the most is that Telemos was not just allowed to live after his disgrace, he was given command of a new fighter squadron."

"Yes, Phoenix." Seiss nodded slowly. "Tell me, what do you remember of your course in Primal mythology?"

"I remember that there was a bird in our folklore called the Phoenix. It supposedly gave our ancestors the secret of technology, and was slain by the gods. When our ancestors placed it on a funeral pyre, the flames revived it." Mirios shook his head. "An idle myth, nothing more."

"Perhaps." Praetor Seiss mused, running a hand through his charcoal hair. "But then, before the Lord of Flames guided us back to this Lylat System, our Homeworld was a myth as well."

Before Mirios could respond, a shipwide alarm kicked on. His superior swore and reached for his communicator. "Report!"

_"Praetor, our sensors have detected new arrivals in enemy controlled airspace. Based on their configuration, the crew of the Zodiac have a high confidence assessment that they are Arwings…and the ones flown by Starfox."_

"Starfox? HERE?" Seiss looked to Captain Hachsturm incredulously.

The fighter pilot rose from his chair, a hardness coming to his face from the news.

"So they come here? It seems destiny has chosen to favor Meteor Squadron. Praetor, make sure our ships are refueled. I will hunt them down myself."

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

"Our supply facilities have been running a third shift to keep the numbers high, but even with Arspace and Corwill donating their military equipment as fast as they can make it, we're looking to run shorter on ships and combat equipment than the Primals." The staff officer made his report so clinicially, he could have been talking about the weather forecast.

"So they have more toys to toss around than we do." General Kagan lifted an eyebrow, more for show than from actual surprise. "That's nothing new. We've been shortchanged since we lost the 7th Fleet. No, our two advantages are what's left of the Arwing fighter corps…and Starfox."

"Do you think it's wise relying so heavily on Starfox, sir?" The SDF officer asked his superior. "They're mercenaries, paid thugs."

"And before they were mercenaries, they were the test pilots for our most advanced spacefighter, vetted at the highest level and part of a project so secret that myself, General Grey, and Slippy Toad were the only unconnected individuals who knew of it." The lynx replied. He drummed his claws on his arm. "The only reason outside of tradition that they've become guns for hire is because that ship of theirs is private property."

"And they're being led by Rourke O'Donnell, a space pirate and Insurgent."

"Former." Kagan corrected him. "I have made my decision on the matter. We can provide intel and advice, but Starfox serves us best by being a loose cannon in Primal territory."

A knock at Kagan's office door signaled the end of the matter.

"Enter." The lynx called out.

A uniformed chipmunk stepped inside with a plain manila folder under his arm. A single red stripe around it instantly changed Kagan's disposition. "Colonel, you're dismissed."

Able to read between the lines, and knowing that the folder carried highly sensitive communiqués above his pay grade, the colonel offered a salute and left.

The chipmunk handed over the folder and departed without a word, as was his way. Alone, Kagan opened up the folder and slipped out the single sheet of paper. As he had expected, it was a message from CSS, and it carried the **MONARCH** label, the designation of the CSS's faceless top secret asset. Monarch had no history, just results and a legacy from before Kagan had taken command. Even though he didn't know for sure, the lynx had wondered in the past if Monarch was a cover for a group of operatives, rather than one man.

Pushing musings aside, Kagan read the report.

**EYES ONLY EMERALD**

**MONARCH confirms ANIMINT intel as operable: Enemy forces redeployed Hawk assets to counter ongoing ROGUE activity. Seven Hawks in total returned to nest post SecY.**

**PRINCE estimates enemy Hawks will be trained as ROGUE neutralization forces. Advise you inform ROGUE DOG of same to preserve pups.**

**-End of Message-**

"Shit." Kagan could have received worse news, but it was enough to make him worry. Monarch's intel was considered viable enough by the head of the CSS that it merited warning General Grey and Starfox about the chance of a Primal fighter counteroffensive. If the guess was right…

The next time that Starfox took off for the unfriendly skies, some very nasty pilots would be waiting to tear their 'Wings apart.

* * *

_The Fichina-Sargasso Corridor_

The Albatross called _Wagonwheel_ appeared back in the hazy aquamarine vapor of the Corridor and the 21st Squadron popped in a second later. The three Arwings immediately scattered, turning their powerful radars outwards in search of hard returns.

A minute passed in silence until Hound spoke up. "You boys getting anything?"

"Rocks." Damer answered. "A lot of intrasolar rocks, but no moving targets."

"Same here, captain." Wallaby nodded. "Seems like this place is pretty quiet."

"For the moment." Hound tapped his radio's open broadcast button. _"Wagonwheel_, you are go for operations."

_"Acknowledged, flight. Standby."_ The Albatross' enormous engines lit up, and the lumbering transport coasted ahead. As it passed them and made for a less crowded section of the Corridor, Hound and his men watched the massive cargo bay doors begin to open.

"Damer, start your zone patrol. Listen for chatter."

"Roger that, captain." Damer's Model K upped its thrust, then banked right in a lazy turn around the convoy.

"Wallaby, did you go with bombs or those newfangled camera pods?"

"Bombs, captain. I thought we might need 'em." Wallaby said. He boosted up ahead in front of the Albatross, leaving Hound to watch the center. "Should I have gone with the pods?"

"No, you chose what you were comfortable with. That was the right decision."

Oblivious to the team chatter, _Wagonwheel_ launched the first of its replacement relay spy satellites. The black and starline painted device drifted out from the cargo bay of the transport, a silent and almost invisible buoy in the void.

_"Standby, flight. We're configuring the satellite and doing final checks."_ As the seconds ticked by, Captain Hound silently counted them off. When the Albatross finally reported the satellite was operational, two minutes and thirty seconds had passed.

He keyed his mike. "Boys, it took them about three minutes to get that satellite up. Be sure you plan for that on the rest of our stops."

"Will do, captain. And that's smart thinking on your part." Damer complimented him.

_"All right, flight. We're set for our next jump. Lock into FTL formation and prepare for the hop."_

"Roger that, _Wagonwheel_." Hound took up position behind the Albatross, and his wingmen followed.

* * *

_Deckmore AFB, Katina_

_Hangar Bay 5_

_1:15 P.M._

Wyatt snorted and came to with two conflicting sensations: Water up his nostrils and a pounding headache. The splash he made and his soaked clothes only gave him another reason to groan.

"Shit." A few seconds after his outburst, Garfield popped into view beside him, as smug a lynx as ever.

"Geez, boss, y'look like Hell."

"Yeah, well, nothing new there." Wyatt kept his eyes shut and rubbed his cheeks with the heels of his hands. "Especially since somebody dunk tanked me. How long was I out?"

"About five hours."

"Long enough, then." Wyatt lurched himself up over the side of the makeshift bathtub and flopped facefirst onto the floor with a wet splat. "Ow."

Chuckling, Garfield helped him up. "Come on. I know you amphibians don't have the same problem with colds as us furs do, but I'm betting you don't want to chafe from wet pants. Let's find you a clean jumpsuit."

"Hey, what are you doing here, anyways?" Wyatt muzzily protested. "You've been doing the wing strut repair."

"Finished." Garfield answered proudly. "I told the boys to knock off and grab some food, which is where I'm headed once you're back in your stateroom and not looking like a drowned cat."

"Hey, you're one to talk." Wyatt leaned on Garfield's shoulder as they ambled outside of the hangar, using the engineer as a brace. "I remember how you looked after your bachelor party. Remember, there was that one mink with the removable showerhead and the…"

"Stop!" Garfield cried out, going bright red. Wyatt chuckled and shook his head.

Ruefully, the lynx sighed and dropped Wyatt into the backseat of a jeep on standby for the Arwing techs. "Geez, why is it I've got a boss who was one of my men of honor?"

"I'd say it was nepotism at Arspace." Wyatt suggested.

"Bullshit." Garfield quickly disagreed. "You get all these crazy ideas in your head all the time, and you worked harder than anybody else on Project Seraphim. Nepotism? No freaking way."

"I submit to the judgment of the happily married." Wyatt flopped onto his back and slowly opened his eyelids to take in the blue sky of Katina.

Before Garfield could start the engine on his jeep, another vehicle drove up and squealed to a halt. A voice from the arrival made Wyatt wince and wonder if the world was ending.

"You there! I'm looking for my son, Wyatt!"

Slowly, Wyatt sat back up, looking behind him. Sure enough, his father the Senator was standing there.

"Garfield?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"How come nobody told me my dad was here?"

Garfield pretended to look surprised. "Oh, right. Sorry, Wyatt, your dad's here."

Wyatt pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Perfect."

* * *

_Darussia_

"So that's the plan." Rourke finished.

"Not much of a plan, lieutenant." Captain Korman complained. The 17th Squadron remained in formation alongside Starfox, an extended wing of aircraft 8 ships wide. "There's a whole load of ifs in it."

"You don't have to come with us, Viper." Milo reminded him. "At our briefing, we were told that you and the 5th Squadron were otherwise occupied."

"Hell, a stunt this crazy, we have to tag along." Gunther, or Raptor 2, chuckled. "That cannon's been a pain in our ass for days. Besides, eight Arwings stand a better chance of making it down than four."

"Just be sure that transport gets to ground." Rourke warned their temporary wingmates. "Without the Landmaster it's carrying, this mission is done."

"Well, we'd hate to see all of you come all this way for nothing." Daric Gavalan, or Raptor 3, reasoned. The toucan clacked his beak noisily. "Let's get this over with."

"Somebody's eager to dive in." Dana teased him.

"Not as eager as Admiral Markinson is to court-martial the lot of them." Terrany spoke up. "Kit's been monitoring the radio bands. It seems you boys left in a hurry and didn't respond to hails."

"You're all AWOL?" Milo couldn't hide the smile in his voice.

Viper Korman cleared his throat loudly. "Just following prior orders issued by General Grey, although a reminder along the chain of command from your boss would help our case."

"If we survive this, I'll make Grey take care of it with extreme prejudice." Rourke promised.

"I'll hold you to that, Starfox."

"All right, then." Rourke steeled his nerves. "Everybody, set your entry corridor for Tanager City: That's about where intel said we'd find our tank driver. It's also only 15 klicks from that enormous gun, so be careful and cover the transport. It's gonna drop like a crippled bird through the atmosphere."

"Nothing ever comes easy when we fly with you, does it, Starfox?" Raptor 4 sighed.

"The only easy thing about flying is crashing your plane." Milo advised him laconically. "Try not to do that."

A swarm around a hive, the eight Arwings dove into Darussia's atmosphere, hot gases flaring around their shields.

Fireflies to the bug zapper.

* * *

_Primal Defense Fortress Zodiac 5_

_Tanager City Outskirts, Darussia_

The Defense Fortress was one of the Primals' strongest ground-based assets. In prior campaigns undertaken on their decades of travel towards the Lylat System, Zodiacs had been a vital resource in achieving victory. Able to bombard enemy ships above them, even in orbit, it could gain air superiority very quickly. To anything unlucky enough to try approaching it on the ground or through low atmosphere, a Zodiac's other defenses were nigh insurmountable.

The towering complex kept two battalions of Spoke tanks in the lower hangars, and space in the upper for 54 Splinter drone attack aircraft. Combined with its own stores of missiles and gun emplacements, the Zodiac's enveloping arms all but guaranteed victory once deployed.

Those facts, High Commander Solinus Myrick thought, were not as reassuring with what their telescopic sensors had discovered and transmitted over the Primal battlenet. Arwings were coming.

Starfox was coming, and with them, the Pale Demon.

"Why now?" He asked half-aloud, drawing a questioning look from his second officer. Commander Myrick waved off his subordinate's concern and motioned to the main weapons panel. "Open fire on the inbounds. Launch all Splinters and Spokes! If they think that their precious aircraft can take on this fortress, then they will learn the cost of that folly soon enough. And put me through to the _Firestarter_!"

His seasoned crew moved quickly to carry out his orders, and the Zodiac shuddered as one high-powered laserblast after another, thudding pulses of energy as thick as three hundred year old trees, fired from the main cannon. After a few more seconds, softer rumbling from the lower decks cued the departure of the first wave of Splinters.

Myrick looked up as Praetor Kunzerd Seiss appeared on his viewscreen. "Praetor, we are defending ourselves, but I am concerned."

_"As you should be."_ Seiss nodded gravely, the lines of worry showing clearly on his pale, skinned face. _"We cannot spare much in the way of reinforcements, as the Cornerians may decide to move on our lines, but I have dispatched Meteor Squadron to render assistance."_

Myrick heard the unit's name and instantly felt relief. "Captain Hachsturm is returned?"

_"Only just."_ Seiss finally smiled. _"And he and his men have been training for this day. Shoot them down if you can, Solinus. Delay them if you cannot. Our own Squadron of Arwing killers is coming. Victory for our Lord!"_

The transmission ended, and a euphoric Commander Myrick turned to his men. "You have heard our orders. Now carry them out!"

Roaring in approval, the Primal soldiers of Zodiac 5 redoubled their efforts and made ready for battle.

Starfox would not conquer Darussia so easily.

* * *

_Katina _

_Wild Fox, Bridge_

"Mr. Dander, we have an incoming transmission!" Sasha squeaked out. The soft-nosed bat kept one claw against her headset and the other on the back of her chair.

The orange tom was standing behind her moments later. "Omega Black?" He questioned, nothing the message marker on her screen. It was hard to mistake the jagged symbol, black with golden edging. "Put it up, quickly." Dander, like Sasha, knew that the CSC wouldn't waste an Omega Black's costly use without due cause…and the timing of it, hours from the prescribed narrow-beam Corneria to Katina optical transmission they'd come up with to keep connected to SDF's headquarters, could only mean trouble.

The loaded Omega Black quantum crystal, or "Resonance Receiver" as it was called, began to oscillate within the attached transceiver, and the inbound message was quickly translated and put up.

General Winthrop Kagan, the head of the SDF and leader at Cornerian Space Command, appeared before them. _"Tom Dander?" _

"Yes, sir." Dander nodded, noting his superior's confusion. "The general is sacked out. We're on my command shift."

_"Allright, whatever. We've got trouble." _The lynx started somberly.

"Are the Primals attacking Corneria again?"

_"No. If they were, we'd be ready for them. This time, it's your people that are in trouble."_

Dander felt death's icy hand tighten over his chest. "What's happened?"

_"According to our intel, the Primals have decided to fight fire with fire…or in this case, fighters with fighters. Their command recalled tactical fighter assets from all over to Venom, presumably to discuss or plan how to knock Starfox out of commission. Make sure that your men know that before they deploy on sortie."_

"General, that'd be awful hard now." Dander winced. "Both Starfox and the 21st launched hours ago. They're probably already out there, running and gunning."

Kagan hissed. _"And they have no idea that they might end up in trouble. Perfect. Pray then, XO."_

"We'll do what we can, sir." Dander promised.

_"CSC, out." _The connection dropped off and the Omega Black transceiver rattled for a bit before kicking out its expended quantum crystal.

Dander picked up the now useless manufactured geode and shook his head. "One million credits for a warning hours too late to do us any good." He muttered.

Worriedly, Sasha looked at him. "So what do we do?"

"As Kagan suggested." Dander breathed. "Pray they make it back."

* * *

_Darussian Airspace_

_45,000 meters up_

As soon as they'd started flying down into the atmosphere, the weapons platform had opened up on them with the megalaser. With Milo keeping a watchful eye out, they'd avoided the first barrage by delicate maneuvering.

That was easier said than done on a re-entry course, where any sudden high-G swerves could quickly overtax their shields and turn them into lifeless meteorites. The _Town Crier_, which handled like a brick during planetfall, was even worse off.

Another white-hot laserbolt screamed past them, nearly taking Rourke's nose off. "Geez! Milo, how much power are they pumping into these shots?"

The raccoon kept one eye on his forward-looking ground camera, waiting for the telltale flashes of death. "I'd say roughly five times the magnitude of a normal homing laserburst. We'd survive one hit, but the second would tear us apart."

"You beginning to regret tagging along yet, captain?" Dana grunted, tilting on a wingtip for a moment. The next shot seared past her belly, brushing the outer edge of her deflectors. "Damn, that knocked my shields to 84 percent!"

"If I _was_ regretting my decision, I wouldn't go telling you." Korman retorted. "We're at 40,000 meters. Another 15,000 and we'll hit the bottom of the stratosphere, close to the tropopause."

What that meant for the Arwings and their cargo ship was that if they survived the next 20 seconds of drop, they'd be past the point where meteors burned up in atmosphere and could finally start evasive maneuvers.

Surviving the next 20 seconds, when the cannon below and ahead of them was quickly becoming more accurate, however…

"Heads up!" Milo shouted, seeing another blast come up towards them.

"Break formation, go small!" Rourke quickly ordered. In spite of the difference in rank, Korman followed the wolf's directive, moving away to give the cannon below multiple small targets to aim at, instead of one large one. All of the Arwings dispersed, but Rourke held position in front of the diving _Town Crier_.

A second later, Terrany rejoined him at the Rondo's forefront.

"Terrany, get clear!" Rourke commanded.

"No!" The white vixen snapped back. "I know what you're doing, and you'll need a second ship to screen."

Rourke growled over the LOSIR connection, but acceded to the request.

The shot Milo had warned them about flew by, a wild miss that passed through the center of their open cluster.

"Ten seconds." Gunther said, marking their re-entry countdown. "Nine. Eight…"

* * *

_Zodiac 5_

"Blasted Arwings." Myrick spat out. They'd spread apart, making themselves harder targets to shoot at. Their descent was taking them towards the besieged city he had posted the Zodiac outside of, where they would gain some cover from his weapons.

Searching for a solution, the Primal stared at their formation. A transport of some kind, larger and clumsier, was in the middle of the fighters. Being screened by then.

Protected by them.

"Gunners, change target." Myrick ordered coolly. "Shoot down that transport."

The enormous cannon atop the Zodiac shifted its azimuth a fraction of a degree, and fired two more bolts in quick succession.

* * *

_26,500 meters up_

"Incoming!" Milo announced. Every pilot froze for half a second, watching two more megalaser bolts fly up at them. Rourke saw their course better than the others flying on the outside, and realized their change in tactics.

"They're shooting for the transport!"

"I got 'em." Terrany announced evenly. She advanced past Rourke a few meters, then spun in a tight aileron roll that strained her wing struts nearly to the breaking point. The spin worked as intended, though, and the Seraph's shields became reflective for a brief moment. It was long enough to redirect the inbound shots off their trajectory. The first, taken head-on, bounced up and away harmlessly.

The second, caught on an acute angle, skipped off of her Arwing and flew behind her, where it crashed into the Rondo transport between the forward compartment and its cargo bay. The ship's weaker shields protested brightly for the blink of an eye before giving way, and the shot carried through. It gouged a mortal wound into the ship's side, but that was secondary to the lost shielding. The Rondo immediately began to incinerate as their rate of descent and friction with gas particles in the high atmosphere made for a lethal combination.

_"Mayday, mayday!" _The Rondo cried out. _"We've been hit, we cannot sustai…"_

Buffeted by heat and air resistance, the _Town Crier_ snapped in half where the shot had landed.

"Shit!" Raptor 4 gasped.

"Safe for evasive!" Raptor 2 declared. They'd finally reached the stratospheric safe zone, and the Arwings dove hard for the ground, trying to duck the next wave of unceasing AA laserfire from their target.

"Now what do we do?" Dana moaned. "We've lost the transport!" Above them, the two pieces of the burning Rondo tumbled end over end towards terminal impact.

"We have to scrub the mission, lieutenant." Korman said. "Arwings alone can't attack that behemoth."

"No, we can't quit now!" Terrany argued. "Rourke, we…"

"McCloud, haven't you done enough?" Gunther asked. "It was your deflector roll that did the _Town Crier_ in. Don't go making things worse!"

"Hey, there's no call for that kind of badmouthing, Nash." Milo snorted. The two flights quickly started yelling at each other, more from frustration than anything else.

One voice was mysteriously absent from the argument, though. Lagging behind the others, Rourke watched transfixed as the cargo section of the Rondo spun wildly. What had caught his eye in the smoking, red-hot wreckage was a glint of blue and white paint that crept closer to the torn open section on every rotation. He said nothing, keeping his hope hidden until the front end of the vehicle emerged entirely and was ripped from its prison by powerful wind shear.

Still hoping, he stared closer to the vehicle's treads, armor, and most importantly, the blue G-Diffuser fins that jutted out behind it. All unmarred. Still pristine.

"We're not scrubbing this mission!" Rourke yelled out, putting an end to the infighting. "We lost the transport, but we still have a Landmaster to deliver."

"Say what?" Korman questioned him. "How?"

Rourke could scarcely believe what he said next. "I'll have to jump out of my cockpit, freefall to it, get it open, turn it on, and land it."

"Oh, is that all?" Dana said. "Well, shucks, Rourke. Why didn't you say so? ARE YOU _CRAZY?_"

"Does anybody else have any bright ideas?" Rourke countered hotly. Nobody answered him, and the gray wolf sighed and bowed his head. "Make for the surface and get clear of that gun."

"Rourke…" Terrany shakily started.

Rourke slammed a fist onto his seat's armrest. "Teri, I'm asking you to trust me."

"I do." She said, after a hesitant and audible swallow. "But if this doesn't work…"

"You're not going to lose me, kid." Rourke reassured her. "I promise."

His Arwing hit its retros and let the Landmaster catch up with it. The others, even a reluctant Terrany, went on ahead.

* * *

**"Well, it looks like you'll be getting a crash course in Landmaster operations." **Rourke's ODAI chuckled.

"Don't say crash!" Rourke snapped back. He undid the straps of his harness and reached underneath his seat. Undoing a latch, he pulled out a small storage drawer and removed a handheld gas-powered magnetic grapnel; a holdover from his days before Project Seraphim. He clipped the devices' lanyard and D-Link to his belt and closed the storage bin up again. "Now, you're clear on what you have to do?"

**"Yeah, yeah. As soon as you make the leap of death, I fly down underneath and try to nudge that machine level for you."**

"And then you get the Hell clear, got it, ODAI?"

**"Got it, boss. It's not like I'm the one who has a death wish. The air's too thin at this altitude to breath, and it's freezing."**

"It's called fur, and holding your breath." Not waiting for the inevitable comeback, Rourke took several deep breaths, held it tight in his chest, and pushed the vent switch on his atmospheric controls.

The cabin pressure, equal to one Cornerian atmosphere, was sucked out with a hiss until it matched the anemic conditions outside. Only once the atmosphere was equalized did Rourke release the canopy seal, ignoring the pressure in his eardrums.

As soon as the canopy lifted back, icy needles stabbed deep into the fur around his face. Clenching his jaw, Rourke squinted his eyes to fight off the freezing cold.

Keeping the air in his lungs held tight, Rourke pushed himself out of the Seraph and let gravity catch him. The relative velocity of the Landmaster to his own quickly changed as the freezing thin air caught on his clothes. Rubbing away a building layer of frost trying to cake around his eyes, Rourke reached a hand to his waist and clutched to his grapnel. He lined it up on the falling tank and depressed the trigger.

With a faint hiss, the grapnel's claw snapped out and clung to the Landmaster's spinning top. The tether pulled tight, sending Rourke into a matching death roll. He fought off the nausea and clung to the rope fiercely.

**"All right, hang on, boss!"** Moving at last, his Arwing pulled underneath the Landmaster and braced it, shields straining under the weight of the machine. The wild bucking and spinning stopped, and Rourke started to pull himself, one yank at a time, down the tether to the Landmaster's hatch.

His arms were burning from the cold, and his chest wanted to burst from the pressure differential. He knew these things were natural, but fighting panic was hard. He had no parachute, no breathing mask, no chance of rescue. Rourke had gambled his life to save the Landmaster.

_And is it worth it?_ The unbidden voice of his grandfather cackled in his ear. _Who're you trying to impress? Who're you fighting for, you little bastard?_

Keeping his freezing lips closed tight, Rourke snarled in his mind and finally closed his claw around the Landmaster's hatch.

_Hey, what's this? The pups grown a spine at last? You didn't grow it for yourself, did you though?_

**"Boss!"** ODAI hollered, snapping Rourke from the ghost of his grandfather. **"The Seraph's shielding is starting to give. Get in that tank already, would you?"**

Glad that his helmet carried a regular radio, Rourke shook off the hallucination and unlocked the Landmaster. The hatch swung up, and he shoved himself facefirst into the tank's belly.

A harder than expected landing on the driver's seat caused him to cough out some of his precious remaining air, and he snapped his jaw shut cursing inside of his mind. He righted himself, ignored the shaking sensation of frostbite in his hand, and reached up to pull the hatch shut.

_Running out of air, whelp. Better move faster if you want to live._ And there was the ghost of Wolf O'Donnell, taunting him again. _You wanna live, don't you?_

**"Boss, I hope you're in. I'm breaking off!"**

The Landmaster shuddered as the Arwing pulled away, shields scraping against its undercarriage.

Cold and hypoxic, Rourke dragged his hands across the Landmaster's dark interior, searching for the ignition. His right hand settled over a glowing rod on the right side of the tank's cockpit, within easy reach. After some fumbling, he turned it clockwise 90 degrees, then depressed it into the lock. The machine began to stir to life, and all around him, lights kicked on.

**"You're at 21,000 meters, boss!"**

Frantically, Rourke searched for something akin to the atmospheric controls in his Arwing. To his dismay, though the Landmaster could pressurize itself, an error message prevented it. Apparently, it had taken damage in its initial rattling plummet.

**Oxygen tank ruptured. Cabin lock unavailable.**

That meant a very long, very airless fall.

At 18,000 meters, his lungs finally gave out, and could take no more. He expelled the breath he'd held for minutes and began gasping for air. At his altitude, it didn't come fast enough, and he started to hyperventilate on reflex.

"Can't…breathe…" He wheezed out.

**"Boss? Boss! Geez, just hang on! I'm flying right beside you. That gun's aiming for the others, and missing like crazy. Just stick with me, okay?"**

Drawing in quick and shallow breaths that didn't end the darkness closing in around his eyes, Rourke tried to activate as many of the ship's systems as possible. Main power was on.

A few more fumbling seconds later, he activated the G-Diffusers, which in turn, activated the shields. Those wouldn't be enough to save him from an unchecked impact. Next came…

Next came…

So sleepy. So tired. So.

Cold.

Cold.

"I tried…" Rourke slurred. His claws loosened and released the control yoke. The last thing he heard wasn't his grandfather's abusive language, but Terrany screaming his name.

The last thing he thought before unconsciousness shut him down was how he'd made a promise he couldn't keep.

* * *

_14,000 meters and falling_

Sensors showed the Landmaster was on, but there was no movement from it at all. No presence. The Landmaster continued to hurtle towards the surface of Darussia below, passing through high clouds and brilliant blue sky. A single Arwing trailed after it, unnoticed and unbothered by the Zodiac's megalaser that was busy trying to shoot down the other seven.

**"Boss!" **The ODAI of Rourke's plane shouted over the radio, a cry of panic that set every other pilot through a hallway of nightmarish outcomes. **"Boss, come on! Answer me! BOSS!"**

The Landmaster fell towards Darussia, the ground raced up towards it.

Silence and shadow claimed the last survivor of Star Wolf.


	23. Ground Fault

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: GROUND FAULT

**The Landrunner Armored Assault Tank-** A lower cost alternative to other next generation armored cavalry units, the CU-6 Landrunner Tank is Corwill Enterprises' premiere vehicle, and the workhorse of the Cornerian Army. Sporting a swivel-mounted JT-82 laser turret and two high-density forward mounted gatling guns, the Landrunner can deal with a variety of ground-based threats with ease.

**(From The Notes of Slippy Toad)**

"_**They might as well call these things rolling tombstones! That's all they're good for. A single Landmaster could take on ten of these without breaking a sweat, but they give the contract to Corwill? Well, congratulations to Parliament. You'll get what you paid for…cheap junk!"**_

* * *

_Meteo Asteroid Field_

_9 Years Ago_

_She had aged lifetimes in the emptiness of space. Using the last of her money, her connections, and those of her former comrades besides, she and ROB had drifted the empty ship that was Slippy's last gift into the Meteo Asteroid Field, and spent years boring out the center of a suitable planetoid. It had started solely as an escape, an abode away from everything after Fox died and the team fell apart. When Slippy had given her the ship so painfully familiar in design, the project took on new meaning._

_ Her tracks had been erased, their mining equipment simply vanished from their warehouses of origin. All to protect the last vestige of what Starfox had been._

_ Krystal had felt her body rebelling against her, all those years of hard flying and fighting, pain and grief catching up and exacting their payment at last. Falco had been with them for a time after that last battle, but he had vanished, dying of an illness there was no hope of coming back from. They had flown together for years, the blue furred and blue feathered Arwing aces, and had been rewarded with the promise of a peaceful death. Krystal had accepted it. Falco had not._

_ Her telepathy, the inheritance of her lineage, had told her why two decades ago, though she never spoke of it, and he never told her. One day, he had announced he was leaving, and seeing the bare desire he had to live, to endure, Krystal released him. From him, though, she exacted a wish: That if he meant to live on, that he would watch over her family. It was too late for Fox, and now 2 years after his burial, it was too late for her son Max._

_ There was still her grandson, Carl…and there was a granddaughter. She had seen them both at Max's funeral, but crumbled and escaped before she could speak to them or their mother._

_ She worried for that girl the most._

_ Krystal sat in a rickety folding chair she'd taken with her ages ago, resting in the gardens that would outlive her. The bushes and herbs were pristine, the flowers bloomed under the full spectrum lightstrips and ultraviolet lamps, and young saplings already tried to reach for the ceiling. Full of life, the stubborn garden would persist in this empty memorial of a time when the Lylat System lived by heroism, and not tyranny._

_ The mechanical **clip-clop** of ROB's footfalls along the path halted her drowsing, and the Cerinian vixen lifted her chin up from her chest. A shiver ran along her back, and she idly tucked her blanket tighter around her legs. The faithful robot, a guardian of the McCloud line since Fox's father had commissioned him, stopped beside her and nodded his head with a soft creak._

_ "I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Krystal."_

_ She waved off the robot's act of contrition, a weak nudge of her hand and her cold, tired arm. "I'm glad you've come, ROB. We need to have a talk."_

_ There was a finality, an acceptance and quiet in her aged voice that was so different from how she usually spoke. It was enough that even ROB, who exaggerated his naiveté, knew that something was wrong. So he sat, he looked to her in her secret garden, and he listened._

_ Krystal took in a deep breath, savoring how all the plants around her brought their own wondrous smells to the reprocessed air. "I'm not going to be alive much longer, ROB."_

_ "I know, mistress." The robot said, as though he were speaking of the weather on Corneria, and not her death. "You will be missed."_

_ She laughed at that statement. "Will I? You will miss me?"_

_ "Master James departed shortly after I was activated. Master Fox has been dead for decades. You are the only connection I have left to them, and losing you will create…irregularities." He settled on the word, but held no faith in it, as though something else was meant for its place. _

_ It was the closest he'd come in years to admitting that he'd developed emotions, and Krystal smiled, looking beyond him. _

_ "There are still my grandchildren. If you have nothing else, ROB, you have that."_

_ "This ship, this base, is the most carefully guarded secret of the Lylat System. Only Falco knows where it is, and Mr. Lombardi has not communicated with us in years."_

_ "He made a promise to me." Krystal insisted. "If they have need of this vessel…of you…he will find a way to bring them here."_

_ "If he is not dead. Probability dictates his disease killed him cycles ago."_

_ "Then have faith." Krystal insisted. To his credit, ROB let the sentiment go unquestioned, and changed the topic._

_ "I have already begun shutting down power to unnecessary systems to reduce wear. The ship will last a considerably longer period of time in hibernation."_

_ Krystal nodded her head. "And…you've probably locked this vessel down, then."_

_ "The genetic lock-out feature has been activated. It will require two descendants of the original Starfox team, or the original members, to disengage."_

_ "So either both of my grandchildren will have to come here…or they'll need help." Krystal sighed. "Somehow, I think that things will work out."_

_Again, ROB's visor bar flared brightly as he tried to process another of Krystal's unusual and unfounded remarks. "What do you base that hypothesis on, mistress?"_

_ She laughed, the gleeful and crackling sound of an old woman who just _knew_ things, and was surprised that everyone else couldn't. "It would be hard to explain. But call it faith, for that is as close a word I can give you." She coughed, and suddenly the cough exploded into spasms, causing her to hunch over, wheezing for air._

_ Immediately, ROB's metal hands and his rubberized fingertips were on her, helping her sit back up, keeping her still as the growing influenza she was too weak to fight off took a little more of her life away._

_ "Not long." She resolved, her voice gravelly. "Not long at all. When I die, ROB…I want to be buried here."_

_ "In the asteroid, mistress?"_

_ "In this garden." Krystal insisted. "This ship has been my home for years. It's where I belong."_

_ "Where in the garden, Krystal?" ROB asked._

_ Krystal raised her head up proudly, turning it left and right to see. In his processors, ROB felt an unsettling, disappointed sensation. Sadness, perhaps. _

_ Through her clouded, milky-white eyes, Krystal couldn't see anything. Hadn't seen anything for a year. But she knew the garden by heart._

_ Her head settled into position, and she raised her hand, pointing to a patch of soil that would, in five years, be covered by the shade of an oak twenty feet tall._

_ "There."_

_ ROB nodded silently. "It shall be done."_

_ "Good." Krystal slumped back against her chair and closed her blind eyes. "Only one thing worries me, ROB."_

_ "What is that, mistress?"_

_ "You." She explained sadly. "You will be alone after I am gone."_

_ "Not forever." ROB resolved, and his mechanical hand gently patted her knee. "I will wait for this hour of need you speak of."_

_ "I thought you didn't believe in faith."_

_ "I don't." ROB said. "But you believe, and that is enough."_

_ It was the last meaningful conversation that ROB had with Krystal McCloud before she passed on. When the end came, because of his quiet and masked resolve, she went peacefully._

_ He buried her in the morning._

* * *

_Darussia_

_10,000 meters up_

Following Rourke's last order, the 17th Squadron and the rest of the Starfox Team had fled for the cover and safety of Tanager City. They were kilometers away when the frantic voice of Rourke's ODAI alerted them to their lead pilot's failure.

"Oh no." Milo uttered.

"Damnit." Gunther, the 17th's second in command, added. "I knew this wasn't gonna work."

Nobody else in the flight could see inside Terrany's cockpit, or hear the inaudible hiccup in her breathing. They didn't witness the shaking of her hand on the control stick, or the trickle of blood on her lip where her front teeth had bitten through. In a moment when everyone else was paralyzed and indecisive, Terrany obeyed her first impulse.

She pulled back hard on the stick, yanking the Arwing from its descent and pushing the boosters as hot as they would go.

"Terrany, get back here!" Dana cried out.

"No." The albino vixen lashed back, quavering but focused.

"Terrany, he's probably dead already. You'd just be making yourself a target for that gun for no good reason!" Milo argued.

"Fuck you!" She screamed, as angry as they'd ever heard her. Angrier than when she'd learned her brother was lost. Angrier than when she'd tried to take Rourke's head off. Every prediction one could have made was now worthless, and the only thing which had any clarity was the pain, the rage, the uncontrolled power. Something in her voice made every pilot on their frequency wince and clutch a hand to their heads.

"I'm not going to lose him! He is _not_ going to die!"

The radio squawked as she dropped off of their frequency, vanishing back up into the skies.

"Creator's wrath." Viper whistled. "She's as crazy and uncontrolled as Rourke is."

"Yes, she can be." Milo sighed, praying with all he had they wouldn't lose two pilots today. "She's got no sense at all…but her heart is limitless."

* * *

_"Terrany. Hey, kid."_

"Kit, don't you **dare** try to talk me out of this." She growled at her ship's AI.

_"I can hear what you're thinking, remember?" _The last piece of Falco snorted. _"Just listen. If you fly us up there, jump out, and try to rescue him without a plan, you're only going to end up killing the both of you."_

"I suppose you have a better idea?" She snipped.

_"Just a thought. Landmasters can pressurize their inner hulls. If Rourke isn't responding, it's a good bet that something broke with the seal. That means you'd have to jump from a breathable altitude."_

"Not going to happen. I've got to get to him now."

_"So, you have to find some way to get there and stay alive long enough to land that tank and revive Rourke. I don't suppose I could convince you to wait until we're lower? Please?"_

"Kit, he's out of time!"

_"Yeah, I know." _The AI sighed, surrendering. _"Okay. The way I see it, we've got one chance to pull this off."_

"I'm listening."

_"There's something you need to know about Merge Mode. You don't actually __**have**__ to be sitting in the cockpit. That's important, because it means you can literally be in two places at once."_

Terrany's ears tipped forward, ever so slightly. "Go on."

_"If we get close enough…and I mean __**really**__ close…I might be able to expand the G-Negation field around the Landmaster and control its rate of descent. More importantly, if we finagle the shield harmonics, we might be able to turn it into an atmospheric barrier, so that you won't be gasping for air."_

"There's a lilt in your tone, Falco." Terrany accused her AI. "What's the catch?"

_"The catch is that I'll be guessing when I'm fiddling with things. Slip was always the brains of the squadron. I'd bet that it'll limit how long we can sustain the Merge. We'll be lucky if we can get this thing to breathing altitude before the G-Negators cough out on us."_

"I don't see any other choice." Terrany dismissed the warning. "If you say we can do it, let's do it. Rourke isn't dying on me."

_"You really do have feelings for him, don't you?"_ KIT questioned.

Brushing a worried tear aside, Terrany closed the gap on the falling Landmaster and the trailing Arwing.

KIT took the silence as his answer.

* * *

_Zodiac 5_

"Commander Myrick, another Arwing has disengaged from the group and is flying for that piece of debris from the destroyed ship!"

Earlier, his gunners had ignored the debris, and the singular Arwing that followed it. Seven Arwings were a much more appealing target. Now, though, Myrick found himself worrying. One Arwing was coincidence. Two?

"Focus in on that debris." He ordered. The powerful cameras of the Zodiac dialed in, and he got his look at what was so interesting to their enemies.

It was a craft, some sort of land vehicle. The colors, silvery white and that damnable blue were what unsettled him. "Oh, damn. That's a tank. They're trying to rescue that tank!"

A tank, he thought in a panic, that resembled an Arwing.

The second Arwing was nearly on top of it, and to his horror, he watched its wings open, altering its size and configuration.

"Main cannon crew, focus on the Arwing cluster. All missile batteries, shoot down that _tank!_"

* * *

The G-Negators opened up and quartered themselves, the wings flared out, and the majestic craft floated up above the Landmaster, matching its descent.

The Seraph's alarms went off: The Primal defense station had locked on with its radar. A moment later, the droning whine began to warble, as missiles were launched to shoot it and the tank down.

In the white space of their shared mindscape, KIT and Terrany conferred briefly as what to do. A few milliseconds later, the decision made, the Seraph continued to lower itself towards the Landmaster.

Its canopy popped open with a hiss, folding back to lay against the fuselage, just short of its inactive thrusters. The Arwing inched closer still, aligning up until the G-Diffuser fins of the Landmaster nearly touched the inner edge of its wings, right at the G-Negator struts.

The two Arspace vehicles had to be that close, not just to expand its shield…

* * *

_ "Now just remember, McCloud, your helmet has an effective range of about three meters. You don't want to go much past two and a half. From what I pulled down on Project Seraphim, nobody thought to run a simulation on what happens if pilot and machine De-Merged without the usual protocols."_

_ "I doubt that Wyatt thought anyone'd be crazy enough to risk it, Falco." Terrany answered. She glowed in the mindscape, a brilliant white to Falco's blue feathering. "Boy, this is going to feel weird."_

_ "Last chance, McCloud. You sure you don't want to wait until we've hit safe altitude?"_

_ "They're already shooting at us." Terrany motioned to one of the virtual screens showing their radar and the inbound missiles. "No, we're out of time."_

_ The apparition of Falco Lombardi sighed and shook his head. "That we are. All right, kid. Get ready for the jump. I'm blending shields…now."_

_ Inside the command center construct they shared in the white space, the shudder as the Seraph matched and subsumed the Landmaster's shields was almost imperceptible. _

_ Terrany caught Falco's eye, and her co-pilot, now the Seraph's guiding force, nodded firmly. **"Go."**_

* * *

Back in reality, Terrany's physical senses were dulled as if she were swimming underwater. Still connected to the Arwing, focusing all of her attention on the sensations and control of her body proved incredibly difficult.

With what felt like agonizing slowness, but was in fact her normal speed, Terrany unlatched her harness and pushed away from her cockpit. The hiss of the Arwing's life support systems increased, bleeding out its mixture of nitrogen and oxygen into the bubble. That air, so carefully protected by the G-Negator field, was what her body…and Rourke's…required to function.

The distance from her seat to the Landmaster's hatch was short, only three quarters of a meter. She curved her back and twisted hard on the locking mechanism, opening it up with a great deal of strain. When the seal gave way, the atmosphere within the bubble was sucked noisily inwards into the tank, feeding what had been a partial vacuum.

The world suddenly turned upside down, the sky and ground rotating. Arwing and Landmaster remained the same in their detached artificial gravity, however. Terrany let her focus switch back to the white space of her mindscape and listened to KIT's explanation. He was lining up to shoot down the incoming missiles, and if anybody could make that counterstrike happen, Falco's digitized spirit made for a perfect representative.

Back in her body, Terrany pulled herself up (or was it down?) into the Landmaster's interior. She found Rourke as he had ended, unconscious or worse, slumped in the main seat.

With some effort, she pushed him over to the second seat and took his place. He'd managed to engage main power as well as the shields. Weapons systems were almost done heating up, and the combat system and software was booted and ready. Even the Landmaster's external shielded cameras were online, giving her an almost full panoramic view of what was in front and on the sides through the linked visual panels inside the vehicle. Nothing but empty skies full of danger on the hexagonal screens.

The one thing he hadn't engaged were the Landmaster's mobility features: the driveshaft was still locked, and the thrusters and particle condenser coils were offline. The last two, in particular, were what would keep Rourke and herself alive.

Unknowing, but reaching up with instinctive knowledge fed to her by KIT, she opened up the feed from the power generator to the driveshaft and thrusters with the Landmaster's systems touchscreen. It was not all that different from what one would find in a Model K.

Coming to life after a long period of disuse, the engines slowly started to push themselves to life. The touchscreen displayed several upgrades, recently installed: The handiwork of the Arspace team who had readied the tank for battle.

Several explosions at moderate range pulled her focus back to KIT: He'd swatted down the first barrage of projectiles, all of them NIFT-24 "Slammer" missiles, according to their limited Primal military database. The warshots had exploded prematurely at 700 meters away: A skilled shot, even by Milo's standards. More were coming as well, but KIT had more sobering news.

The tank, their Arwing, and Rourke's trailing Arwing were just past 7,000 meters in altitude, and they needed to reach 3100 meters to get to breathable atmosphere. The G-Negator units were already starting to show fluctuations in shield harmonics, and KIT estimated they could manage another minute before they would have to de-Merge and disengage them. In short, they weren't going to make it to safe altitude before KIT would have to pull away and let the tank loose. Already, he was speeding their descent as much as possible. The slowly thickening air of the atmosphere began to twist and whistle around them, wispy curls of vapor forming like the strands of a whisk. He was in the driver's seat, and doing as well as she could under the circumstances.

_You worry about Rourke_, KIT berated her. Chastened, Terrany retreated away from the Seraph's control screens and worked through her sluggish torpor. Unable to disconnect, desperately wanting to, she reached over and pulled Rourke's upper body into her lap, cradling his head close.

His lips were blue, and she prayed it was from cold rather than oxygen deprivation.

_"Live, damn you."_ She spoke, her voice distant and strangely empty of emotion. She bent over, cognizant of every centimeter, and forced air into his lungs with mouth-to mouth. Cramped in the confines of the Landmaster, she couldn't perform full CPR, so she instead settled for as forceful a series of one handed compressions as she could manage. She kept it up as long as she could, until KIT shot out the ten second warning. She blew more air into his lungs, then put him back into the other seat and gulped down more lungfuls for herself.

Lightheaded and in a daze, Terrany felt the De-Merge more fully than she had in a long while. Gone was the Seraph, the shooting Nova lasers, the inbound missiles. Gone was the bubble of gravitationally neutral space.

Gone was the atmosphere that her Arwing had exhausted, and in its place was cold and empty air.

_"I'm on standby again, Terrany. What do you want me to…Oh, shit. You can't talk if you're holding your breath."_

Grunting through her closed lips at the idiocy of KIT's sudden realization, Terrany braced her arms on the controls and watched the radar and her altimeter.

4000 meters. Another 1000 before she could think about breathing. The two Seraph Arwings trailed, waiting desperately to see if their pilots would survive.

The engines went _ping_, greenlighting the use of emergency thrusters and lift thrusters. With the wailing threat of a _third_ wave of missiles coming towards them, Terrany expected she would be using them to do more than land.

Barely taking the time to contemplate her own fate, she snuck one look after another to the unconscious form of Rourke O'Donnell, still slumped in the other seat.

_Don't die_, Terrany wished fiercely. _Please, Creator, don't let him die._

* * *

_Deckmore AFB, Katina_

_Wild Fox_

_Dining Hall_

The sense of unease between Wyatt Toad and Theodore Toad was keenly felt by every other member of the _Wild Fox_ crew having a late lunch. The green and blue amphibians wore the air between them like a cloud that grew darker every second. Neither one spoke, each waited for the other to snap off the first thunderbolt.

Pugs, who didn't seem to sleep very much, brought the two matching orders of flied rice, a maggot-filled variant of a classic dish introduced by pandas, koalas, and wildcats from Corneria's Far East. "Here ya go, fellas!" He pulled out a bottle of soy sauce from a back pocket of his chef's apron and plopped it down between them. "Will that be it?"

"Yeah, we're good." Wyatt reached for his spoon and nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Pugs."

The best cook the engineer had ever known smiled and winked back. "You get this ship back in the air and we'll call it even, sport. Take care."

He wandered off to check on another member of the crew, and Senator Toad grunted. "He seems very competent."

"If that was supposed to be a compliment, dad, you blew it." Wyatt snorted and shoveled a spoonful of the fried concoction into his mouth. "Mwhut are yhou doimgh here?"

"Chew, then swallow, Wyatt." His father corrected him airily. "We are not country frogs."

"Hmph." Wyatt reached for his glass of water and washed the mixture down with a loud swallow. The food was perfectly prepared, but the present company ruined the flavor. "I've got to get back on the job in 20 minutes, so say what you came here to say."

"You've changed, son." The blue toad frowned. He dipped up his own spoonful of grubby rice, taking his time with it. "You were never this forceful when you were little."

"Yeah, funny how being disowned does that to a person." Wyatt snapped.

His father chewed for a moment, swallowed, and set his spoon down. "Wyatt, would it be possible to have a conversation instead of a pissing match?"

Wyatt's first reaction was another retort, but he begrudgingly forced it back down. Grunting, he motioned for the Senator to continue.

"This Project Seraphim has spiraled far out from what its original intent was. You were only supposed to be testing new technologies. Now you and everyone else who served on Ursa Station as technicians and advisors have been recruited by force into the war."

"The Primals brought the war to us, dad." Wyatt reminded him, trying to keep a civil tongue. "Even if we'd quit afterwards, it wouldn't have helped. We die here, or we die out there. It's all the same to them."

"But not to us. Not to me." Theodore Toad pleaded. "That's why I came here, Wyatt. I wanted to ask you to come home with me. To Corneria, where it's safe."

"Safe?" Wyatt said incredulously. "Dad, _nowhere_ is safe! The only reason Corneria was spared was because my team and I, and Starfox, came charging in with guns blazing!"

"And you did a good job. But you deserve a break. Come home with me. Let someone else worry about this ship, these Arwings. They don't need you here, but I _do_ need you back home."

Bitter, bubbling with disgust over his old man's hypocrisy, Wyatt shoved his half-eaten meal away from him and got up.

"And what about what I need, huh? I'm doing the job I love, I'm where I can make a difference, and I'm constantly forwarding the potential of science and engineering. I didn't need your money, or your influence. I got to where I am by working my ass off. There's only one thing I ever wanted from you, and you never had the stones to give it to me!"

"What?" The senator asked, puzzled. "What didn't I give you? I gave you a home, an education, a life. A life that you threw away to become a grease monkey!"

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Wyatt snuffled once and glared. "You never gave me your respect."

The third engineer in four generations, Wyatt stormed out of the cafeteria, no longer hungry.

His father rocked back on the rear legs of his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed.

* * *

_Botanical Gardens_

Dr. Bushtail couldn't help but glance nervously up at the wide hole in the ceiling of the enclosed arboretum. A host of technicians, both those from the recent Arspace transports and those who had been part of Ursa's original crew, were scurrying on gantries set underneath it and over the hull itself around the smooth cut. The reason was a massive curved piece of transparisteel, perfectly sized to fit the hole.

"They'd better not drop that thing."

"The chances of them losing control of the new transparent hull enclosure are very minimal, Dr. Bushtail." ROB reassured him with his filtered, digitized voice. "When the work is completed and the hull is repressurized, the skylight will be as sturdy as the pre-existing alloy was to begin with. I believe that Mrs. McCloud would have approved of the remodeling."

"Yeah, it's funny you should mention how she'd feel." Bushtail grunted. He threw the shovel out of the hole he'd dug by a tall oak tree, then yanked himself out after. "Seeing as what we're about to do."

Close at hand, making sure that their medical gear remained sterile in the unusual conditions, Nurse Ermsdale couldn't help the face she made. She repressed it quickly and tried to outdo ROB for emotionless reassurance. "Under the circumstances, this is the logical solution."

"Under the circumstances." Bushtail repeated scornfully. The simian brushed dirt off of his lab coat. "You can justify all sorts of things with words like that. _Under the circumstances._ Genocide, forced sterilization, military buildup and imperial expansion. Sure. I know perfectly well why we're here, but all the same I don't want to use those words."

He looked down into the hole, about a meter and a half or so deep, and to the coffin at its bottom. "The removal and desecration of a body is never a good thing. Even for the best of reasons, there's always a stain attached."

"Ah. Which is why you summoned me." ROB suddenly realized. "You wish me to exhume Krystal's body."

Dr. Bushtail motioned to the equipment, a frame and pulley system, that he'd told ROB to bring. "Just bring her up. What we have to do is minimally invasive, so this should take just a few minutes."

ROB tilted his head ever so slightly, and had he not been a mechanical construct meant to house a ship's Artificial Intelligence, he might have made a grunt of displeasure or rolled his eyes. As it was, he looped the ends of the ropes down to the coffin, extended his arms as far as they could go, and secured Krystal's burial container. It was a simple matter after that for the robot to raise the coffin up to ground level.

ROB guided it over beside Dr. Bushtail and let the ropes go slack. "Do what you need to. I will return her body to the grave when you are finished." He stepped two paces back and assumed a neutral posture.

"Thanks, ROB." Dr. Bushtail looked to his nurse one more time for moral support and exhaled. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." The gray-eared rabbit offered. "But I'm glad you came along for this. I didn't want to do this myself."

"Believe me, Lynette, I can understand why." The simian smiled sadly. Shakily, his hand went to the lid of the coffin, and he raised the weighted top up.

The doctor hadn't known what to expect, though he'd braced himself for the worst. The worst was what he found. The top of the lid, pristine and untouched. The bottom stained and nearly unrecognizable from decomposition.

There, lying as she had been interred, were the earthly remains of Krystal McCloud. All of her blue fur was fallen off and lying around her, what little had survived the years. Only a pale skeleton, all that was left after nine years of eternal sleep, remained. Its arms were folded across its chest, its mouth closed.

At peace.

Dr. Bushtail paused for a moment and touched his forehead with the knuckle of his index finger. "Creator, forgive us this transgression." He uttered quietly. The doctor waited two heartbeats, then reached his hands up. "Gloves."

Quietly, his nurse slipped two sterile latex gloves over the primate's hands.

"Deoxyribonucleic Drill."

The device, a strange gun-looking apparatus with a drill and an oversized barrel, was pushed into his grip.

"Light." She flipped a powerful halogen lamp on and pointed it into the coffin.

"Mask." The last thing she did for the procedure, Nurse Ermsdale put a plastic face shield over his eyes and made sure the band around his forehead was tight.

Every step completed for the procedure, Dr. Sherman Bushtail lowered the drill down and pressed the tip of the grooved drill against Krystal's right femur. He pulled the trigger, and the device let off a high-pitched whine as the RPMs whirred at dizzying speed. It only took seconds for the bit to bore through the old and brittle bone until it reached the center, where the marrow, the last bastion of viable DNA in a corpse, waited. Flecks of dust, bone, and precious genetic material slipped back along the grooves of the drill bit, back into the barrel of the device, and were sucked up by a tiny vacuum inside the butt of the gun-shaped drill.

Seconds, and he was finished. Somberly, Bushtail pulled the DNA Drill away from her body and handed it to Miss Ermsdale. She set it aside and waited expectantly.

The simian lingered over Krystal's bones a moment more, searching her empty eye sockets for a flicker of the person who had once lived in them.

"What we have done may save the lives of your progeny." He promised her, and finally he shut the lid.

ROB walked back over and began to crank the coffin back up again. "I find it unusual you would take offense to this act." He stated flatly.

"Why's that, robot?" Dr. Bushtail demanded, removing his plastic facemask.

The row of red LED lights that formed ROB's panoramic optics lit up, bouncing from one side to the other as he processed data. "As a Cerinian, Krystal believed that a body was merely a vessel for the soul, and once the soul departed, there was no threat of desecration. Cornerian beliefs differ slightly in that regard. You apply your own cultural mores, when you should instead operate by hers in this instance."

"Perhaps." The simian raised his shoulders in defeat. "It doesn't change how I feel about it, though."

"I did not predict it would." ROB agreed, and lowered Krystal's coffin down into the open grave. "I can finish the re-interment, if you and your associate have other business to attend to."

"Thank you, ROB." The simian said gratefully. "You know, there are some days where you seem…almost…"

ROB stilled in his work of removing the ropes from the coffin and glanced up expectantly. He did not say anything, though. Shaking his head, Dr. Bushtail waved him off and turned around.

He reached for the DNA drill and undid a hinge, opening the device up. Out of it, he removed a small sealed vial filled with bone dust and precious dried marrow. "I'll worry about the tests, Miss Ermsdale. Just get everything else back to the lab, then go ahead and take off for the day."

"Thank you, sir." She said, tipping her ears forward slightly. "Why don't I come back in around ten tonight, let you get a decent night's sleep in exchange?"

"That'd be fine." The simian grunted.

Silently, Nurse Ermsdale packed up the medical supplies she'd brought up to the garden and headed for the turbolift. Bushtail lingered, fingering the vial in his palm and looking from it to ROB, silently covering Krystal's grave back up with the mound of dirt that he had removed.

He didn't know whether it was better to be right or wrong about his supposition, but regardless of the outcome, he had to know.

For Terrany's sake, and for the unspoken promise he'd made.

* * *

_Primal Command Ship Firestarter_

Praetor Seiss was as nervous as everyone else in his command with the arrival of Starfox, and more nervous still that Zodiac 5's crew hadn't blasted them out of the sky yet. Still, they had shot down the transport that the Arwings had been escorting, and he considered that a small victory. Something to build on, at the least.

_"Praetor, Meteor Squadron is launching."_ His deck officer radioed in.

Seiss smiled, and pushed his worry aside. With Meteor Squadron rocketing for the surface after those accursed Arwings, the tables would turn. No, their Zodiac defense fortress would not fall now. This would be the turning point for the Primals, and the Tribunes would give him honor and accolades. The Lord of Flames would speak his name, the highest honor afforded; individual recognition by their god.

And then the idea hit him, though he had to make sure that they were still safe first.

"Has the Cornerian Fleet budged at all?"

"They have changed their formations slightly, but there is no perceptible shift in orbital position, Praetor."

Seiss grunted merrily. _So, they still fear the Zodiac. Well that they should. We shall see if they insist on this battle once their precious silver-winged birds are flaming wrecks._

"Very well, then. Open a subspace line to the Homeworld. Patch in the feeds from Meteor Squadron. I want their gun cameras, their cockpit cameras, their radios. Send it all."

"But…sir, why?" The radio operator questioned.

Seiss lifted his arms above his head, caught in the upswell of his grandeur. "We shall give our fellow fighters all over this Lylat System a sight they have long desired. When Captain Hachsturm and his warriors defeat Starfox, they will know that the air corps' best triumphed, that we triumphed…that **I** triumphed!"

* * *

_Lylat System _

_Point Echo_

Point Echo was a region of space in the outer fringe of Lylat's habitable zone that orbited opposite of Papetoon in the binary system's rotational alignment. It acted as a gravitationally neutral space between Lylat and Solar, and offered a fairly good vantage point of the nearby worlds of Cerinia and the mostly ignored Dinosaur Planet. Its closest celestial neighbor of interest was Sector X, millions of kilometers distant, but with an enlarged presence in the starfield. In terms of strategic value, Point Echo had never been of much interest to Andross or the Cornerian SDF. However, data had indicated that the Primals had sent a small task force to Cerinia some days ago, and that merited a stop for the convoy.

The three Arwings of the 21st Squadron snapped out of their FTL jump, following the lumbering Albatross that they were protecting. So far, they had made four stops without meeting difficulties, and each time, Captain Hound had felt a lump grow a little bit larger in his throat. It was a game of probabilities, and like in a casino, the house always won in the end.

In jump five, the house cashed in.

"Aw, shit." Damer got out, before Hound could even order a sensor sweep. "I've got a Primal cruiser coming away from Cerinia, and they're coming straight for us!"

"What, already?" Hound uttered. The timing of it was ridiculous. The Primals couldn't have known that they were coming here, there had been no information leak of their mission and no sign of their presence being detected at any other stop. He took a moment to evaluate the situation, and reached for a solution even as they leapt into action. "All planes, engage. _Wagonwheel_, get the package out and prepare for quick flee."

_"Roger that, flight. We're on it."_

Hound took point on the intercept course, hitting his boosters to close the gap more quickly. The cruiser they were up against was _Ardent_ class, by what his combat computer was telling him on the viewscreen off to his right; Not as powerful as larger Primal ships, it didn't carry a fighter complement. It had plenty of laser batteries and two missile launchers, though. A tough nut, even for an Arwing.

The sleek Primal ship didn't seem as sleek the closer they came. Damer, the team's analyst, was the first to spot why.

"Holy…Captain, that ship's sorta pounded a bit already! It's taken fire!" As Damer had said, there were scorch marks along the cruiser's hull, one of its laser turrets was warped and bent, and it seemed to be struggling to push along at what was a slow crawl.

"From who?" Hound reasoned aloud, finding the entire situation very unusual. "There's nobody out here but us. Right?"

"Yeah, just us, boss." Damer quickly agreed. The squirrel paused, then added, "No radio transmissions at all. Not even that ship is broadcasting. I think their communications array got knocked out."

_From what?_ Hound thought to himself. Knowing the question would get no answer in the time they had before open combat, he pushed it aside. Face the danger in front, worry about the rest later.

"Should I Merge, boss?" Wallaby nervously said, licking his lips.

"If you feel like it, Preen." Hound grunted.

"Eh heh, I uh, I think I'll hold off for now."

"Fine, then. When we're in range, lock on. I'll drop a bomb, you boys follow up with laserbursts."

"Roger."

"Aye, cap'n."

When they were within 50 kilometers of the ship, the Primal cruiser seemed to finally notice them. A dull droning whine noted it had acquired radar lock, and it launched missiles.

Only one half-salvo, though; three in all. The other missile launcher was silent.

"Shoot 'em down, we're being marked!" Hound barked out. His wingmen proved ready to the task, and quickly filled the sky with hyper laserfire. Each of the thin and deadly fragmenting projectiles blew apart under the combined firestorm.

In what was surely desperation, the cruiser opened fire with its remaining laser batteries, creating a formidable wall of energy bolts.

"Roll it." Hound calmly called out.

"Rollin' it!" Wallaby chirped back, and Hound and his two wingmen easily went into a hard right on their sticks, aileron rolling in a lazy and unchanging course. Their G-Diffusers reacted perfectly, using the momentum of the spin of their wings to bolster their shields with a reflective layer. They passed through the second Primal attack easily, scattering laserbolts in all directions as if their ships had simply batted them to the side.

It tried another salvo, more out of desperation than any determined effort to destroy them, but that failed just as easily with a left aileron roll.

"Time's up." Hound's targeting reticule turned red, gaining a solid tone on the battered ship. He reached his thumb up and depressed the firing stud on the top of his control stick, launching a smart bomb on its homed in course.

To his surprise, the Primal cruiser even lacked shields. The first blast of red light from his smart bomb crushed in the hull and tore it into two pieces. The followup laserbursts from his wingmen each went for a different piece and finished the job, and rattling explosions of hot gas, shards of metal, and flying mutilated Primal corpses were the reward.

"Geez." Wallaby uttered. "That…that was easy."

"Too easy." Hound had to rumble. "The ships we took on over Aquas gave us loads more trouble. This thing was barely flying. It didn't stand a chance."

"So?" Damer reached for clarity in the situation. "It was trouble, it was interfering with the mission, we took it out. Like I told you, captain…I'm getting nothing for a signal."

_"_Wagonwheel_ to Flight. The package is away. Ready for quick flee."_

Hound paused, weighing his options.

"Nothing?" He asked Damer again.

"Nothing." The squirrel repeated firmly. "Whatever happened to that ship, I couldn't tell you from Lylus what it was."

"Fine, then." Hound sighed. He reached up to his headset and toggled to the Albatross's frequency. "_Wagonwheel_, area is clean. No sign of enemy alert. Mission is still green."

_"…Confirm that, Flight? Cancel quick flee?"_

"That's affirmative. We're good for drop six."

_"Roger that." _The pilot of the Albatross transport didn't seem entirely convinced, but he made his turn to reform with the Arwings. _"Form up and we'll start our next jump. How's your FTL Drives holding up?"_

"A little warm, but all right." Hound said, glancing down to his diagnostics panel. "These in and out hops are straining them a little."

_"If you like, since there aren't any more unfriendlies around, we could wait a few minutes."_ The _Wagonwheel_ offered.

Hound considered that option for three seconds, but reason and concern for his engines were quickly shoved aside. He found himself looking out of his canopy, staring around the void of Point Echo, looking towards the distant world of Cerinia…a planet turned barren by a meteor storm long before he was ever born.

They didn't belong here in this place, and the compulsion to leave suddenly felt stronger than anything else. To his surprise, he shivered, unsettled and uneasy.

"No." He finally replied. "We're done here. Let's go."

The Albatross and the Arwings turned around and made ready for their next jump. Before they vanished, though, Captain Lars Hound found himself looking back over his shoulder for a reason he couldn't fathom.

Subspace was a welcome sight.

* * *

_Darussia_

_Praxen Continent, Tanager City_

_Contested Territory_

In the end, he had decided, there could have been worse places to be trapped behind enemy lines. A shoe factory, for example, or worse, a women's clothing boutique.

A recreational sports outlet, such as the one Major Avery Boskins found himself in, at least offered distraction. Not much in the way of viable supplies, but distraction.

As the avian who had earned the nickname "Ironbeak" in many campaigns long ago, Major Boskins leaned up on the wall by an outer facing window. He kept one sharp eye out for Primal patrols, making sure not to disturb the blinds. He rolled a stickball about in his wing, rotating it absentmindedly.

Further in, the crew of his Landrunner tank and a few other survivors from his division stayed hidden behind jostled shelves and knocked over displays. Their offensive had been fiercely countered, and every scrap of air support sent in after them had met a quick end from that damn fortress.

He really hated that damn fortress.

"You, uh, got any threes?" Boskins overheard.

Behind him, two gunners playing a heavily modified card game were engrossed in their match, trying to keep upbeat even with death imminent.

"Go fish." The other replied, and with an audible spin of a fishing rod's flywheel, the first did just that, casting his hook into a small kiddie pool they'd inflated and filled with pink sportscraft antifreeze.

A groan followed the reel-in. "Aw, damn. All I got was a keychain."

"Hey, that means I just got Bingo!" The second exclaimed happily.

Ironbeak rolled his eyes and walked back for a closer look. One of the cavalrymen at the pool was a wildcat, the other a chameleon. They glanced up at him.

"Any trouble, major?"

"Just the men under my command making me wonder what's wrong with them." Boskins scoffed.

"Nothing, sir." The cat stammered.

Boskins leaned in and sniffed. "You been drinking the antifreeze?"

"No, sir!"

"Good, don't." Boskins clapped his wing on the wildcat's shoulder, harder than he needed to. "That stuff'll kill ya faster than the Primals. Anybody needs me, I'll be on the roof."

The warning given, Major Boskins headed for the rear of the store and its rooftop entrance. He needed a break from the tedium of waiting. Their emergency rations would run out tomorrow, as would the painkillers and first aid supplies for their wounded. They were unable to flee, unable to fight. All they could do was wait to live or die, and Boskins _hated_ waiting.

He made it up to the rooftop and sighed. Not for the first time, he looked up at the sky for some sign of rescue. This time…there was one.

Boskins blinked. He recognized the flashes of light passing through the sky, and up higher still were muffled explosions, puffs of smoke.

The Primal defense station was firing. Someone was coming.

Narrowing his eyes, the major tried to sight the focus of its attention. A cluster of aircraft, barely distinguishable, were diving hard for Tanager City. They seemed to be the focus of the fortress's punishing megalaser.

Though he could barely see it, up higher still was a flicker of reflected light falling away from smoky clouds of shrapnel.

The hatch to the rooftop opened up, and his personal gunner, a star-nosed mole named Geoffrey, stuck his head out. "Everything okay, major?"

Ironbeak Boskins stared harder at the ships. They hadn't been hit yet.

Wouldn't be.

"Geoff, tell the boys to stop goofing around." He answered, not breaking his gaze away. "I think we just got some reinforcements."

* * *

The long seconds of waiting, as the Landmaster plummeted rapidly for safe breathing altitude, was Hell on Terrany. It wasn't holding her breath that made it difficult, she could go a minute and a half without problems. What made it agonizing was not knowing if Rourke was still alive or dead.

Another salvo of missiles was tracking in from the Primal fortress; it clearly didn't know when to quit. This batch, Terrany realized, would get too close for comfort, and without Merge Mode, KIT would have his hands full just flying the Seraph. She'd have to do her own defending.

Hoping that the Landmaster's G-Diffuser fins worked as well as promised, she triggered the thrusters underneath her right tread. The sudden push knocked her to the side, forcing the missiles to make a sudden adjustment. They were NIFT-18's, called "Wingbreakers" by the Primals according to the dossier. They were apparently known to be relentless.

_"300 meters to safe altitude, McCloud. Take out those missiles and you can finally breathe again!"_

To get an angle on the inbounds, coming up from below, Terrany forced the thrusters of the Landmaster even harder, inverting the tank so its mounted cannon could take aim. She lined up the targeting reticule and pulled the trigger, feeling the tank vibrate slightly as one powerful elliptical disc of supercondensed laser energy shot towards the missiles. The vixen diverted her gaze for a fraction of a second, gulping as Rourke started to slump out of his seat and fall for the sealed hatch. She couldn't reach him in time and deal with the threat.

Her first shot passed over the firestorm of NIFTs, and she narrowed her eyes and squeezed off two more rounds. This time, the wobbling laserbolts smashed into the lead missile and forced it to explode, destroying the rest as they flew through the sudden cloud of shrapnel.

She didn't wait to see the cloud of debris: Terrany finished the Landmaster's midair spin and forced Rourke's body to slump back into position.

_"You're at safe altitude!"_ KIT called out. Terrany didn't need to be told twice. She activated the air conditioning in the tank and disabled the external vent locks. Cold, thin, but breathable air whipped against the fur on her face, and Terrany breathed deep. She gulped it down for several seconds before speaking.

"Any more, Kit?"

_"One last salvo from that station. Intercept when you hit 4,000 meters. After that, you're home free."_

"Time to intercept?"

_"Twenty seconds."_

The vixen took advantage of the window and strapped Rourke's body into the side seat. Worriedly, she searched his face for a sign of life. There was none.

"Don't you dare do it." She ordered, her body shaking. The warning alerts prevented her from doing more. Rourke was secure, alive or not.

Terrany returned to the controls and inverted the tank once more. The gunners on the defense station were getting desperate: they'd thrown out a screen of ten missiles to blow apart the tank this time.

"Regular shots won't cut it." She told herself. The barrage was spaced into five distanced pairs. She'd wager that even a charged laserbolt wouldn't down them all before impact. No, she needed something stron…

Terrany blinked and breathed in. "Kit, does this thing have smart bombs?"

_"Bet your ass it does. Your granddad liked to pop them off like candy when we hit Macbeth."_

Terrany depressed the firing trigger and let a charge build up on her now downwards angled turret. "A yes would have worked." The gunpipper box turned red, then locked on to the lead missile. "Firing bomb."

_"Praying to Lylus."_ KIT added.

The charged laserbolt dissipated, and a feeder within the Landmaster's munitions brought a Cornite smart bomb launcher in line with the firing barrel. It expelled the high energy discharge, which accelerated through the chambered magnetic accelerator, gaining energy and propulsion. When the shot emerged, it had acquired all of the energy needed to zero in on its lasered target and detonate. A half second after the shot cleared the barrel, the smart bomb launcher rotated around to recharge, allowing the laser condenser coil to take its place and reactivate the main cannon.

The bomb guided in, matching the slight parabolic arc of the missile barrage. The Landmaster continued to plummet down, forcing the curve. With six seconds to spare, the smart bomb detonated in a cloud of red light just ahead of the Primal missiles. The vast radius engulfed them all as they passed through, and the deadly plasma and superheated air did their grisly task.

The unscathed Landmaster righted itself for the last section of the drop, just as the tops of Tanager City's skyscrapers came into view.

_"Okay kid, now's the time for those brakes."_ KIT warned her.

Terrany pushed both foot pedals in, and the tank shuddered around her. The G-Diffuser fins and the sudden push of ignited hydrogen gas fought against Darussia's gravity and the Landmaster's inertia.

After a few seconds, Terrany released the pedals and swore. "Damnit, I forgot the thruster recharge. I try to come to a full stop, I'll run the tank dry!"

_"Then don't do a full stop." _KIT retorted. He and Rourke's ODAI kept their Arwings apace with the Landmaster on the drop, a source of comfort and reassurance above and beside her. _"All you wanna do is slow yourself down. You don't wanna __**stop**__ until you're almost to the ground. You've got enough to worry about, so do it one thing at a time. Land this thing, __**then**__ save Rourke."_

"As if you could expect me to stop thinking about him." Terrany muttered.

_"No, I expect you to stay focused."_

Terrany cut off the AI with a sudden burst from the tank's repulsors, causing both trailing Arwings to shoot past her. "Then stop talking." She snapped. "Track what's below me, so I don't crash into a rooftop."

_"Fine. So I can still talk then, to warn you?"_

"Falco!"

_"Sheesh, relax already."_ The AI pulled back a bit, coming behind the Landmaster again. _"Okay, first obstacle. Hyperion Insurance Tower in 200 meters. Adjust 20 meters forward to compensate."_

Terrany flicked the boost controls on the left side of the Landmaster's steering wheel forward, and the rocket motor at the rear of the vehicle shot her away from her angle of descent. A little farther than she'd meant to go, actually. That put her in line with another building, and KIT was quick to warn her about it.

_"Geez, going for an office building? Boost left!"_

Terrany pushed in the left foot pedal and turned the Landmaster nearly on its side, altering the descent course. The G-Diffusers took a moment to catch up, and she grunted against the pull. Steadily, slowly, Terrany worked her way down through Tanager City's skyline, narrowly missing building after building and all the while timing her repulsor boosts.

_"Watch your angle, watch your angle!"_ KIT cried out. Terrany grit her teeth and leveled out the Landmaster again. A warning beep kicked on; proximity alert below her. _"Shit, brace yourself!"_

Terrany's teeth rattled as the Landmaster crashed hard onto the rooftop of a ten story building. The treads, sensing ground at last, activated and began to turn, forcing her forward.

"Shit." Terrany breathed. She couldn't react fast enough to stop the auto-forward, and the ledge creeped into view. "This is it, Falco. One last drop!"

_"You got enough boost left?"_

The Landmaster tipped over the side of the building and started falling again. Terrany checked her gauge; all her maneuvering had worn it out, and there was only a few seconds worth of synthesized hydrogen remaining.

_It'll have to be enough_.

Just when KIT thought things couldn't get any more out of hand, he noticed a flicker of movement along the side of the building she'd just fallen off of. To his horror, a small hook-legged pod began flashing red, then jumped out towards the falling tank.

_"Incoming bomb!"_

"What?" Was all Terrany got out before the small device got in range. The pod exploded in smoke and shrapnel, doing little damage, but causing a massive concussive blast of smoke and light. Blinded, Terrany was thrown forward by the explosion. The Landmaster smashed into the side of another building across the street, busting through window and concrete.

_"Kid!"_ KIT cried. He and Rourke's trailing Seraph pulled a hard turn around the building to follow her, and waited in almost full stall on the other side.

Two agonizing seconds passed before the far side of the building exploded outwards, and the Landmaster smashed through the metal and glass. It began falling towards the ground again, and this time, it was the final plunge.

At thirty meters aboveground, the Landmaster's repulsors kicked back on, flaring at full power. Steadily, they slowed the tank's descent until it was hovering at two meters. The thrusters kicked off, and the Landmaster, its journey complete, landed onto the pavement with a solid **thud**.

The two Seraph Arwings set down on either side of it and put their engines to idle.

Quietly, KIT waited and listened.

Listened for a shout of joy or a scream of anguish from inside that steel cocoon.

* * *

There was silence.

Before the Landmaster had even settled into place, Terrany had shut off the engine and ripped Rourke's harness off. Next came his flight jacket, his shirt then torn open by her groomed claws. She pressed her ear to his exposed chest and listened for a beat.

Nothing, nothing but the roar of blood in her ears.

"No. No, _no_." She repeated, and heard her voice crack. Terrany pulled him up, laid him out on her lap again, and started a set of two-handed chest compressions. "You can't do this to me. You can't!" She rebuked him. "Come on, come on! Breathe already!"

Terrany gasped for air and leaned down, breathing it all out into his mouth and lungs. She repeated CPR two more times, then stopped and listened again.

No pulse. No breathing.

"Rourke, don't you dare." She whispered, and her eyes went blurry. "You promised me. You _promised…_"

Angry, unable to accept it, she screamed once and pounded on his chest hard with her fists. Again, she started CPR, three full cycles, and again, she felt for a pulse.

She felt nothing, nothing but the frantic beating of her own heart. Heard nothing, save her soft, shaking sobs and the sound of her tears striking his face.

Terrany Anne McCloud collapsed around Rourke O'Donnell and let the world slip away. For the third time in her life, a man had made a promise he couldn't keep.

She had no words, no voice. Eyes closed, nerves shot, Terrany had only one coherent thought left in her.

_Don't leave me._

* * *

_In the darkness, there came a puddle of light. It roused the senses, washed away the sluggishness. He pulled the warmth out of the void and bathed in it._

_ And then it spoke to him._

**"Don't leave me."**

_Soft, feminine. Wounded. He knew this voice, but the pain in it…that agony made him shiver._

_ She never sounded like this. No, she was always proud, or brave, or angry. This pain didn't belong._

_ That wafting tuft of light lost cohesion, started to drift away. Too many bad things were stirred up from it. Better to sleep. Better to forget. Better to fade._

_ And yet, he felt his fist tighten on the tail of that cloud of light and memories._

Do I not want to forget? _He asked himself, and the question echoed as if he were underwater._

**"Don't leave me."**

_It was..meant for him. For him to hear. And he…_I…

Rourke. _With a painful jolt, that name returned to him. He was Rourke. She wanted him to stay. And she was…_

_ She was…_

_ The darkness boiled away, the cloud of light expanded and burned bright. He kicked up towards the surface, felt his head break through. And he remembered her name. Shouted it into the wind._

"TERRANY!"

* * *

She was crying. He could hear the hitch in her breathing now, and her body was shaking against his.

That did a good deal to wipe away the pleasant sensation of waking up in her lap.

He finally opened his eyes, licked at the tears in his fur that weren't his, and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her headfur disheveled.

Terrany had never looked so beautiful.

He summoned up control of his body and brushed a hand against her forearm. The sobbing cut off, but the shaking didn't stop. He brushed her arm again, took in a delicious breath of air, and spoke.

"I heard you."

"What?" Was all she could eke out in reply.

"I won't leave you." Rourke promised, putting everything he had into the vow.

She pulled back and opened her eyes, still not believing he was alive.

He smiled nervously. "So. You end up landing this thing, kid?"

Terrany finally snapped, clipping the side of his head with a quick rabbit punch. "Idiot!" She threw another one down at his shoulder, and even half-dead and bruised, Rourke managed to snap his arm up to block it. She choked out a sob and pulled her hand back, beating on his sore chest with two balled, weak fists.

"You idiot. You big idiot!"

Rourke grunted and pulled himself up to sit off of her shoulder. Her armor gone, she slumped against him and buried her snout in his neck.

"You idiot." She repeated, choking it out into his fur.

Pain and her proximity made Rourke feel more alive than he had in days. He cracked a smile, sighed, and stroked her hair back.

"Only around you."

He pushed her away from his neck, and before she could protest or call him an idiot again, he dared and branded her mouth with a kiss. She made a single squeak of surprise, which cut off her crying, and he deepened his embrace.

Terrany succumbed to him, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

A strange _whump_ing noise had put Major Boskins on alert, and he'd looked skyward to see that gleaming object falling faster towards the city. It gained definition as it reached the first skyscraper, and he recognized the ships behind it. Arwings. And they were escorting…

"It couldn't be." He muttered aloud.

His personal gunner squinted at the sky and wiggled his peculiar star-shaped snout. "What is it, sir?"

"No, it couldn't be." Boskins went on, barely registering Geoffrey's question. "They haven't used those in years."

Any doubt in his mind was blasted away when the inbound launched a smart bomb and incinerated a storm of missiles racing towards it.

"Holy shit." Boskins breathed.

"What? What is it, Major?"

"It's an Arspace Landmaster." Boskins grinned. The tank disappeared from view for several long seconds, then exploded through the office building right across the street from them. It came to a rough landing, and the Arwings that had been trailing it touched down as well. Right in front of them.

"Come on." Boskins urged his gunner.

"Huh?"

"After days of no support, we suddenly get two Arwings and my old warhorse dropping right on top of us?" Boskins whirled about and ran for the ladder. "Time to see what's up."

On the floor of the sporting goods store, his men were all panicking.

"Major! That thing just landed right outside and it's a…"

"I know, I know!" Boskins cut them off. "Just stay put, I'm checking it out!"

The warbird dashed outside into the street and slowed up, unsure if the Landmaster was going to start moving again. After half a minute had passed without a sound, his gunner nudged him. "Uh, you think there's anybody in that thing, boss?"

"Gotta be." Boskins said, jumping up onto the side of the Landmaster with a grunt. "They don't shoot off bombs by themselves."

After some more scrambling, he reached the top hatch. He reached for the recessed manual release lever and popped it open. What he found inside made the Reservist officer blink twice, rub his eyes, and blink again. A white vixen and a gray wolf were sucking each other's faces off.

"Uh…ahem." Boskins cleared his throat and knocked on the open hatch. The distraction caused the lovers to finally stop and look up.

"If this is a bad time, I can come back later." Major Boskins deadpanned.

* * *

_Zodiac 5_

When the last salvo of missiles was destroyed, all that Ground Commander Myrick could do was scream in frustration.

"Unbelievable! We can't even shoot down one tank. _One!_" Nobody answered his shout, of course; their gunnery consoles were suddenly very interesting.

Amidst the cowering Primals, Myrick fumed. He turned to his chief gunnery officer. "Did we hit _anything?_"

"Outside of that one transport…no, sir. The Arwings were just too quick for us."

The Primal Commander roared again and slammed his fist into the wall. The metal bent under the blow, and his crew winced.

"The Arwings, undamaged. That tank, _landed._" He rattled off the bad news. "And their fleet waiting. Let us hope that Meteor Squadron is more successful in bringing them down." He left the grim alternative unspoken.

Myrick took in a long breath to calm himself, then nodded. "Alert all tank crews that they are on search and destroy. That…_Arwing tank…_must not make it here."

* * *

_Landmaster Site Alpha_

Terrany's blush response kicked in perfectly, but Rourke handled the interruption with aplomb.

"No, I think we said what we needed to."

"I sure hope so. Now, who are you two, and why are you using this Landmaster like the backseat of my dad's pickup?"

"Rourke O'Donnell, Terrany McCloud. Starfox. We're supposed to locate a Major Boskins."

"Ironbeak" Boskins blinked again, looked around once to check for unfriendlies, then changed the subject.

"Does Starfox usually fraternize during combat?"

"When I feel like it." Terrany snapped hotly, crossing her arms. "Now do you know if Major Boskins is around here?"

"Oh, somewhere." Boskins shrugged, grinning a little more. "Why, exactly?"

"Because _we_ are supposed to give _him_ this tank so _he_ can take out that Anti-Aircraft station." Terrany rumbled.

Boskins shrugged once, then clapped his hands on his knees. "All right. You'd better climb out of there, then."

"Why?" Rourke asked.

"You were looking for Major Avery Boskins, son." The bird winked. "You found him."

* * *

_Katina_

_Wild Fox, Starside Lounge_

Of all the facilities that the members of Ursa Station had found within the ship, none was as inspiring as its built-in tavern, the _Starside Lounge_. Ulie Darkpaw had been the one to name it, and it had stuck since then. They had found bottles of spirits kept perfectly preserved, chilled in the unheated ship for years. Now a rotating staff provided by Pugsley Femmick ran the place from noon to midnight, and the profits all went towards Starfox's unceasing repair bills. The charity of it simply gave everyone another reason to drink.

Not that they needed one.

The current barkeep, a Venomian lizard named Ryka, dried out a row of shot glasses. The bar's sole occupant stirred his grain alcohol mixer with a swizzle straw. The blue amphibian hadn't said much: He'd simply stumbled in, sat down, placed his order, and went quiet. And that had been an hour ago. Ryka wasn't much of a conversationalist, and he rather enjoyed the quiet, so he'd let the toad be.

The transparent sliding door opened, and a more familiar looking, elderly amphibian hobbled in. The bar's sole patron looked behind him and made a face. "Father, I'm not really in the mood."

"Good, that makes two of us." Slippy sat down beside his estranged son and motioned to Ryka. "I'll take some Therka, if you've got it."

The barkeep nodded and reached to the spirits lined up behind him.

"I heard that you and Wyatt got into an argument." Slippy began.

"He told you, then?"

"Actually, no. That I got from scuttlebutt in the cafeteria. This is a pretty tight crew, after all. You and my grandson made quite a scene."

"Hnh." Theodore took a sip of his drink. "He blew up on me. Wyatt's never done that before. Never."

"Really? What did you say to him?"

"I asked him to come back to Corneria with me."

"Aha." Slippy rubbed at his chin. "I take it he disagreed in the strongest terms." Ryka set Slippy's drink down in front of him, and the old toad glanced up. "Thanks."

"I'll start a tab." Ryka replied diplomatically. "I'll be in the back. Holler if you need something." Glad to escape the uncomfortable family reunion, Ryka disappeared into the wine cellar.

Slippy slurped a dram and paused to feel the potent moonshine burn down his throat. "Did you think he'd say yes?" Slippy went on, when he could breathe again.

"I thought he would think about it. He didn't even do that much." Theodore Toad complained. "He was determined to stay here with the long hours, the suffering, and the danger."

"He really is your son." Slippy chuckled.

Theodore glared at his father. "What do you mean by that?"

"Hell's bells, Tad. Toads never listen well when it comes to their fathers. He's determined to go his own way, live his own life. Just like you did when you went into politics."

"Politics doesn't put my life in jeopardy."

"Maybe so." Slippy reasoned, pulling on decades of experience. "But what made you choose politics as a career?"

"I wanted to make a difference."

"Exactly." Slippy nodded. "That's the same reason Wyatt became an engineer."

Theodore grunted and swirled his drink again. "Is this your idea of one minute parenting?"

"It's my idea of trying to mend bridges, son. Wyatt is the one thing we both care about, and I don't want to see you do to him…what I did to you."

The last part came out with some difficulty, and Slippy took another nervous drink. "I made the mistake when you were young of trying to decide your life for you. I should have known better, after what my father did."

"Grandpa Beltino?" Theodore perked his head up. "What did he do?"

"When Fox joined the Academy and I went with him, my father nearly foamed at the mouth. He didn't believe I belonged in a starfighter. Up until we left Papetoon and volunteered to take down Andross, and he gave us those first four SFX Arwings, we hadn't spoken. Afterwards, he promised never to do that again. I should have learned then, so I'm going to try and teach you now."

Slippy leaned over and stared at his boy. "I never agreed with the path you chose in life…and I made the mistake of cutting myself off from you. I'm sorry I did. But I want you to know, Theodore Fox Toad, I have always been proud of you. Both as a man…and as a father."

Theodore blinked several times. It took him long seconds to get his voice back. "…well."

Father and son both took a moment to drink the rest of their alcohol.

"Why wait until now to say it?" Theodore demanded.

"Because as much as I wished otherwise, I won't live forever." Slippy coughed. "I'm in my 90's, Tad. Most 'fibbies my age would be croaked by now, but I figure a year or two, I'll be belly up anyhow. You're family, and I don't want harsh words to be the last thing we shared with one another."

Finally at peace with his father, Theodore Toad nodded. "So how do I patch things up with Wyatt, then?"

"Tell him what he already knows, Tadpole. You love him, you're proud of him, he's doing good work." Slippy yawned. "Then wish him well."

"You mean, let him stay _here_?"

"If that's what he wants, then yes." Slippy set a hand on his son's shoulder. "The toughest part of being a dad is letting go. Your kids always will want to leap outwards. You just have to let them."

"Gee, you make it sound so easy."

"Easy?" Slippy snorted. "The only thing in life that's easy is dying! Come on, you're getting' too mushy on me now, boy. You haven't drank enough. Bartender!"

Summoned, Ryka stepped from the backroom. "Yes?"

"Another round for me and my cerulean-skinned progeny!" Slippy ordered.

Theodore Toad sighed and nodded.

The old man did love to celebrate.

* * *

_Darussia_

_Tanager City, Building Skyline_

Having achieved groundfall, the two remaining Arwings of the Starfox Team and the full 17th Raptor Squadron ran lazy circles above Tanager City, staying mindful of their radars and the distant defense battery.

"We're going to have company real soon." Captain Korman reminded everyone. "I've got Twigs on visual."

"Yeah, and Tinwheels rolling in below." Milo Granger added. A double row of Primal tanks was rolling into the city.

"If we're going to do something, Starfox, now's the time." Korman said warningly.

"I know, I know!" Dana snapped. With the Arwings of her comrades out of reach, she was forced to switch to the supposedly secure radio frequencies. "Come on, guys. Come on. Terrany? Rourke? Are you guys alive down there? Respond, _please._"

_"Relax, Tiger. We're both here."_ A weary sounding Rourke finally answered. A cheer rose up from the airborne pilots. _"And the Tank's fine, too."_

"How did Terrany save you?" Dana exploded.

_"I'm not sure, exactly. I just remember getting slapped around some."_

"Should we start looking around for our missing tank driver, then?" Korman asked. The lizard was keen on staying focused.

_"No need."_ Terrany assured him, tapping into the communication line. _"We landed right on top of him. Rourke and I are hopping back into our Seraphs right now. Major Boskins and his gunner are getting situated in the Landmaster."_

_"They don't have optical communications or our personal encoded channels, though, so we'll have to go on open frequency to chat with them."_ Rourke added somberly.

"That's going to be trouble." Raptor 2 mused. "I got used to having secure communications again."

The six Arwings moved towards the landing site, and they all relaxed a bit when two more Seraphs lifted up on loud flaming bursts of repulsorthrust to join them.

"Welcome back, O'Donnell." Korman congratulated him.

"Good to be back. And alive." Rourke chuckled. His voice lost its distant tinge as the Seraphs reconnected to the LOSIR optical interlink.

_"Starfox? This is Major Boskins. Give us another minute to get situated. Can you cover us?"_ From down below, the Landmaster finally announced its presence.

Milo switched his radio over. "We've got your covered, Landmaster. Just do some damage for us."

_"We'll wreck it, don't you worry none."_ Came Ironbeak's laughing response.

Milo switched back to the Arwing's optical network. "Terrany, should we launch our Pods?"

"Disperse your four low for ground watch." Terrany advised him. "I'll send mine a little higher."

"Starfox, you worry about keeping that tank covered and moving." Korman ordered suddenly. "The Raptors will take out those incoming Twigs."

One _thunk_ after another vibrated Terrany's Arwing as the modular weapons bay launched the G-Diffuser equipped Godsight Pods. The small, nearly invisible devices shot up into a diamond pattern, quickly extending the range of their optical communications.

"Raptor 1, if we go high, that defense station will tear us to pieces!" Raptor 4 exclaimed.

"Remember your close contact canyon training, Titus?" Korman grunted. "Now you get to use it."

"Good luck, Raptor Squadron." Rourke wished them well as the Model K's kept to the building skyline and soared for the inbound Splinter drones.

"Good luck, Starfox." Viper replied.

* * *

"Uh, Major, just how long's it been since you drove one of these?" Geoffrey the mole nervously asked his superior.

Humming merrily as he ran through the pre-op checklist, Major Avery Boskins paused only a quarter second to consider the question. "Not since Papetoon." He resolved. "A while after that, Parliament decided to use the Landrunner alone."

"Why?" Geoff went on.

Boskins snorted. "The same reason politicians do anything, Jeff. Money. The Landrunners were a lot cheaper, and for a while, there were rumors that Corwill even had some campaign kickbacks. Suffice it to say, the Landmaster, like Starfox, is a symbol of a bygone age. _MY_ age. And now you get to see firsthand what a quarter of a billion credits buys you."

"Is this thing safe?"

"It's old, son, not decrepit. This old gal's got plenty of fight left in her. And by the looks of it, they updated some of the software."

"This is a…Model C, right?"

"Yup, the C's a two seater. If it wasn't, I'd be driving this thing solo. One of the nicer changes they made, actually. Makes it a tad easier for me, since all I gotta do is worry about driving. Not that I couldn't drive and shoot if I had to, and it looks like Starfox did a little of that while they were airborne already. You got the gunner's chair operational yet?"

"Uh…" Geoffrey ran his hands over the controls in front of him, not sure which button to push.

Boskins shook his head. "Hit the big red button."

Jeff looked off his right shoulder and found the one he needed. "Oh. Lemme guess. Main power?"

"Yeah."

The mole punched it, and his lower section of the tank lit up.

**"Main gunner console online. Allocating weapons controls."** The tank's computer announced.

"Wow, that's creepy." Geoffrey shivered. "Same targeting system as the Landrunner?"

"Not exactly. Different companies, to start with." Boskins explained. "The turret will only move about 60 degrees to the left or the right horizontally. However, you'll be able to aim nearly straight upwards."

"Hold on, hold on. You mean this thing can fight _air units?_"

"Or ground units on higher ground, yeah." Boskins motioned to the turret controls at the gunner's seat. "That joystick's your baby. Index trigger controls the main laser. Hold it down and you can charge and fire homing shots. But be careful with that top firing stud. That's your smart bombs, and you've only got…" Boskins checked his diagnostics panel, "…five left. Maybe. Use bombs wisely."

"I'll be careful." Geoffrey promised. "So is this thing ready to go?"

"Almost." Boskins grunted. "I'm getting an error message here. Seems the tank got dinged somehow, and it can't maintain cabin pressure. Oxygen reservoir is bad, too."

"Is that a problem? Can you fix it?"

"Well, give me a minute to think here." Boskins tapped his chin. "Check underneath your seat quick. There should be a canister there."

Geoffrey did so, and removed a capped cylinder. The mole's eyes picked out the name easily in the dim light. "Foam sealant?"

"Yep, that's what we're after." Boskins grabbed the canister and referenced his diagnostics panel again. "Usually, any leaks or dings that got put into a Landmaster came from the topside. Armor on the belly, sides, and front and rear's thick as Hell. So…"

Boskins dug into his pocket, removed a worn matchbook, and lit one of the matches quickly. He put it out and watched the smoke curl around inside the cabin…then slowly dissipate as it was sucked out from a tiny hole overhead.

"There's the leaky faucet." Boskins smirked. He sprayed the puncture with the foam sealant and waited several seconds for the grayish suspension to finish bubbling and harden. "This stuff's quick acting. Should hold now. That just leaves repressurizing the cabin."

"You said the oxygen tank was useless."

"Yeah, it is. But there's a reason that this Landmaster's such a beast. It's got so many redundant features, the only way it stops running is if the enemy manages to turn us into a grease spot. In this case, all we have to do is reallocate the synthesis feeds from hydrogen thruster production to a heavier element mixture for a little while."

Boskin's wingtips danced over the Landmaster's all-in-one diagnostic panel controls, and he routed through so many different menus that Geoffrey lost track. About ten seconds later, the air vents inside of the tank hissed loudly, and a wafting, slightly warm breeze slapped the mole in his face.

**"Repressurization successful. Cabin conditioning at optimal."**

Chuckling again, Boskins rerouted the synthesis feeds back to the thrusters and sighed. "Damn, I forgot how much I loved these things."

"Geez, I'm sure glad that you knew how to fix it. You think that those two Starfox pilots landed this thing while it was without any atmosphere?"

"Nah, they're crazy but they're not suicidal." Major Boskins quickly dismissed the fearful idea. "If they tried a stunt like that while they were still two kilometers or more up, they'd be dead right now. All set, Jeff?"

"Good to go, Ironbeak. Let's start some fires."

Boskins hit his radio. "This is Major Boskins to the Starfox Team. The Landmaster is operational, we're heading out. Be advised, our callsign here-on is _Ground Fault._"

_"Roger that, Major. We'll keep that in mind. Set your course for bearing 090."_

"We're on it. Watch the skies, we'll tear up the roads." Boskins pushed the tank's throttle forward, and the Landmaster rumbled into action, kicking up asphalt and dirt behind it.

"Major? Why'd you name this thing _Ground Fault?"_ Geoffrey asked.

Boskins smiled. "Tradition."

* * *

_"Okay, Raptors. You'll have your first wave of contacts coming in at ten o'clock high. Looks like they haven't seen you yet."_ The distant, eerily mechanical voice of Milo Granger reached out and gave Viper and his team a clear sign of trouble. Their radars were all but useless in the cluttered canyons of Tanager City's towering buildings, but the ever-watchful eyes of Starfox's crack shot and the Godsight Pods overhead filled in the gaps quite well.

Moving at low speed through the maze, Korman tapped his transmit key. "You heard him, boys. Form up and charge lasers; we'll do a stop and pop at the first group." The stop and pop was a tactic that was very similar to most of the 17th Squadron's playbook: It involved them suddenly appearing out of nowhere, striking a crippling blow, and then slipping away.

Following the course that Milo had given them, the four Raptors coasted along twenty meters below the skyline, more drifting than flying. Their noses all glowed bright green from the laserbursts kept in hold.

After a few tense seconds, the first of the Splinter fighter drones shot by overhead. Captain Korman allowed himself a small smirk.

"Stop it."

Raptor Squadron nosed up and pulled hard on their retros, stalling out as their targeting sensors moved over the edge of the buildings in front of them and scouted the rest of the inbounds. One by one, their red reticules locked on to different edges of the inbound Splinters, still none the wiser to their imminent destruction.

"Pop it." Korman released his trigger and tapped it once, launching his homing laserburst up and away. Three more balls of deadly light followed, and the four explosions blurred into one massive gush of green that annihilated the center of the column.

The limited intelligence of the Splinters finally detected danger and started to move; the ones behind the explosion veered off to avoid the debris field, and the ones who had passed them veered around to come back at the Arwings.

"Good job, boys. Raptor 4, you're with me. 2, 3, split off."

"Roger that, Viper." Gunther, Raptor 2, acknowledged. The polar bear eased off his retros and dove down hard, with the toucan Daric Gavalan following in his wake. Some of the Splinters chased after him. Some came for Viper himself.

"Got your attention now, don't I?" Korman inverted and reversed course, drawing his pursuers and Raptor 4 away from the second element. The drones seemed quicker to respond than before, and they opened fire almost immediately. Korman jinked wildly, forcing the laserbolts to miss him. Each burned through the buildings around them, scorching windows and blasting chunks of concrete off their steel frames.

The debris smashed against the Arwings, punishing their escape. "Damn, how'd these Twigs get so good?" Raptor 4 cried out.

"Keep it together, 4!" Viper snapped. "They're drones, remember? I'd bet they've got somebody in that fortress flying them."

"So whaddo we do, boss?"

"Shut up and follow me. When I tell you, break right."

Korman took a deep breath, then adjusted his radio until he was on an open frequency. The Primals would have no trouble picking him up.

"You fellas think you're hot shit?" He goaded the guided Splinters. "You couldn't fly in the same skies as me if your life depended on it!" The taunt had the desired effect. The Splinters ignored Raptor 4 and concentrated their fire on Viper. Captain Korman rolled and dropped altitude, screaming over the wreckage of burning debris on the street below.

He switched his radio back over quickly, resuming his team frequency. "All right, 4, get ready." An overhanging streetlight loomed ahead of them, guarding a four way intersection.

"Two…one…" Korman counted down. He dove lower still, braking so Raptor 4 could maneuver. The paired Arwing shot ahead of him and into the intersection.

"Break right!"

Already reacting, Raptor 4's front end stopped dead and its tail whipped around behind it. A well-timed boost sent it screaming 90 degress off its starting course, less than a second after stopping.

And that, Viper thought proudly, was why Arwing pilots were a cut above the rest. Especially his boys. That was all the time he had for a thought before he took a hard left, and the shooting Splinter drones turned to follow him. Two of them weren't as quick as the others, and smashed into the streetlights to produce massive fireballs.

That still left three more on his tail, but now they were flying in Viper's favorite kind of terrain.

And the lizard knew how to make their tunnel vision work to his advantage. "Viper" Korman pulled up, clearing away from the street as a spray of laserfire baked the ground just beneath him.

"Oh, you three are so not ready for this." He mused.

* * *

Behind the frantic maneuvering of Raptor Squadron, the Landmaster rolled down the street at a steady pace. It held its still recharging supply of thruster fuel in reserve, and either drove around or blasted through the wreckage of war machines and abandoned vehicles.

"Geez, look at him go." Rourke whistled from overhead. "This guy's the real deal."

Terrany ignored the remark and focused ahead of them. Her attentiveness allowed her to spot a small robot clawing its way over the side of the building ahead. She remembered how one like it had attacked her during her plummeting fall.

The squat little robot jumped off of the building and hurled itself down at the tank.

"Danger high!" She cried out, broadcasting on the Landmaster's open channel. The Landmaster reacted immediately, rolling sideways to the left in an impressive spin. The robot hit the ground and exploded harmlessly, well clear of it.

_"Thanks for the warning, Starfox. Those walking bombs tore my unit apart when we came in. If you see any more, try and take them out for us."_

"Flying this close to the cityscape is risky enough. I'm not sure I can smoke targets that small without crashing." Dana complained.

"Forgotten how to Merge already?" Rourke asked her with a chuckle.

Dana slapped her forehead audibly. "Right, right. Terrany, you got those GSPs active yet?"

"A few more seconds until optical interlink." The vixen promised. The tigress waited impatiently, and was finally rewarded with a chime from her HUD. "Optical interlink online." Terrany reported, much more confident with their transmissions now safe from the Primal's listening ears. "Get to work, Dana. Camera feeds are up for you."

Dana's Arwing unfolded its secondary wings and shot forward, spinning wildly as it identified walking bombs along the tank's route. Bolts of white hot laserfire screamed in every direction, incinerating the automated mines before they could react.

"I'd forgotten how effective Merge Mode is in close quarters." Rourke told Terrany.

"You should have seen how effective it was in my Sector Y furball." She countered.

"I caught the replay. You got a little sloppy in the middle of it."

"You jackass!" Terrany shouted, earning a laugh in return.

"Settle down, children." Milo interrupted. His Arwing was coasting along at a higher altitude than the rest, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Outside of Merge Mode, he switched between the camera feeds of the eight Godsight Pods through a small display on the bottom center of his HUD, one at a time. After switching to GSP 5, his first device, he spotted a worrisome blockade up ahead of the Landmaster.

"_Ground Fault_, I'm seeing a lot of Primal activity at your twelve. They're setting up a little welcome party for you. You want us to hit it with an airstrike?"

_"Save your ammo, Starfox. You'll need it. We can handle this obstacle course just fine."_

"Geez, he's awful sure of himself." Terrany grunted.

"He's a warbird in his favorite vehicle, doing a job he was trained for." Milo reminded her. "Kind of like what happened when we put you in this Arwing. Right now, he believes he's invincible."

"And believing can make it real." Rourke finished.

* * *

"Uh, Major, I'm not too sure about this plan."

"What's not to be sure about?" Boskins snorted within the confines of the Landmaster. "We drive in there, blow a hole through that defense line, and keep going."

"Yeah, that's what I'm not sure about." Geoffrey snuffled. "Can you take it easy on the tumbling, at least?"

"Only if you don't mind getting shot up, Jeff." Boskins tried to deflect his gunner's concern. "What do you think of the cannon on this thing?"

"The wobble of the shots was a little weird at first, but this thing packs a wallop. And the charge shot!"

"Yeah, the 82 Series is pretty powerful. 'Course, they were Landmaster exclusive. I'll try and keep this thing facing forward for you."

"Weird as it feels." Geoffrey agreed. Major Boskins understood what he meant; The Landrunner's usual tactic was to drive at angles from its target using the swivel of its main turret to keep firing. The Landmaster's forward-only facing minimized its cross-section, but also made its attack approach very predictable. At least it was built to take abuse that way. And Ironbeak never flinched when it came to playing chicken.

On their forward screens, the roadblock that they'd been warned about came into view. An armored troop carrier was blocking off the road, and several light attack vehicles and mounted gun positions faced them as well. Between all the hardware, Primal soldiers stuck their heads and their guns outwards.

"Well, well." Boskins murmured. "Not so helpless an enemy now, are we?" He taunted the unhearing force.

"That a lotta firepower."

"And what are you firing, soldier? Blanks?" Boskins demanded.

Geoffrey grimaced at the taunt. "No, _SIR._" He pulled the trigger and started to build a charge shot.

The Primals opened fire, and a wall of death gushed outwards. Among the laserbolts of varying size and strength, shoulder-fired rockets caused Boskins' alert system to go off.

"Hang onto something!" Boskins finally lit up the Landmaster's thrusters and sent the tank roaring towards its doom. "Got a shot yet?" He crowed, feeling the lasers crash around him and against the thick shielding his G-Diffuser fins were putting out. The Landmaster rattled under the barrage, making it hard to keep the tank pointed straight.

"Almost." Geoffrey squinted, moving the charged red reticule over the parked troop carrier. It blipped, and the lock-on box flickered into place. "Locked on!"

"Take the shot!"

His gunner didn't really need the prompt, but Boskins had provided it anyway. The ball of charged laserlight arced up and away, then started to fall towards its designated landing point. The Primals seemed to finally realize the danger they were in, and tried to scatter away.

At the last moment, with the rockets' smoke trails almost upon them, Boskins threw the Landmaster into a rightwards roll, spoiling their lock. The RPGs screamed through the tank's wake, flying away to detonate without effect. The charged laserblast Geoffrey had unleashed was vastly more effective. Upon landing, the ball expanded and blew a gaping hole in the transport. One of the attack vehicles that had failed to get clear in time was caught in the blast wave and flipped upside down with a sickening metal groan.

As soon as Boskins righted the tank, Geoffrey started popping off elliptical-shaped rounds, cutting the surviving craft, the emplaced gun turrets, and the Primals themselves to pieces. The sight of the enemy being severed in two by his rounds might have been nauseating in other circumstances, but they were running on bloodlust and vengeance. The only thing Geoffrey wanted was to kill even more of them.

"Keep the pressure on them!" Boskins urged, flexing his legs. Scrambling for cover, the troopers took shelter in the remaining vehicles and opened up on the Landmaster again. One of the trucks seemed to have a death with, and drove straight towards the tank. Even as a lucky round exploded something aboard and set its superstructure ablaze, the Primal vehicle persisted in its rush.

"Damn, that thing's gonna ram us!" Geoffrey gasped. He sunk one shot after another into its nose without effect.

"Yeah, we'll just see about that. Hang on, Jeff!"

Boskins depressed both foot pedals in, and the Landmaster's repulsors kicked up to full blast. To the shock of the Primals watching, the suicide rammer careened underneath its suddenly airborne foe. The damage that the JT-82 laser turret had inflicted seemed to finally take hold, and an explosion in the engine knocked it on its side and sent it scraping along to crash into a fire hydrant.

It was even worse for the vehicle that had held back. The Primal manning the truck's mounted double blaster fired furiously up at the belly of the Landmaster, praying for a shot to cut through and damage it. The turret's operator went from focused to frantic when the thrusters underneath the tank suddenly cut out, and it began to plummet. The Primal gunner screamed at his driver, who hastily shoved the truck into drive. The effort came too late.

The heavily armored, multi-ton Landmaster lived up to its name. It came down on the truck's rear axle, crushing Primal and laser cannon, smashing the wreckage to the ground.

Leaving behind the flattened grave, the Landmaster calmly rolled off of the truck and drove through the gaping hole in the troop carrier. Inside the cockpit, Geoffrey could only gasp for air. "That…that was incredible!"

"Reinforced undercarriage." Boskins explained, eyes on the forward screens. "We don't often approve of crashdowns, but sometimes, it's necessary. Nice to know it'll work when you have to do it." He reached for the radio. "This is _Ground Fault_. Blockade cleared, moving ahead."

_"Roger, Ground Fault. Heads up, though: Primal tanks are starting to close in on you."_

"Noted, Starfox. Over and out." Boskins gave a sidewards glance to Geoffrey. "Now the real fun starts."

"Let me guess, Major. We're just getting warmed up?"

"And you said you never learned anything from me." Boskins increased power to the driveshaft, feeling the powerful engine of the Landmaster roar like a lion. They sped down the next city block, kicking up shards of asphalt in their wake.

* * *

The Landmaster was now just a kilometer short of Tanager City's edge, and making good time. Of course, that also meant that their escort Arwings were running out of tall buildings to hide in, and getting into the effective range of that defense station's weaponry.

There was little to be done about the megalaser; only the Landmaster could put that down without being blown apart. When it came to the missile bays, however…Well, that was something Milo could deal with.

"Rourke, you and the girls have eyes on our runner?"

"Yeah. You got something stewing inside that head of yours, Milo?"

"Just trying to make life easier for us." Granger double clicked his mike to indicate he was going quiet, then shut his eyes. "Do it, ODAI."

And out of his darkness came light.

* * *

_The plan, his ODAI calculated, was favorable. A little risky, definitely stupid, but it would probably work. Their information on this ground defense station indicated it was called a Zodiac, and it was well-armored and bristling with munitions. Their files did __**not**__ specify where the Zodiac's secondary weapons were placed._

_ To target the Zodiac's missile launchers, then, Milo had to do something that his years of military sniping experience had mostly beaten out of him. _

_ He was going to make himself a target._

_ Milo and his ODAI advanced their Arwing forward, a noiseless maneuver interrupted only by the wind rushing past them. Finally, they were clear of the buildings that marred the view of the Zodiac._

Zoom in.

_ The distance outline expanded, allowing him to see the finer details of the defense fortress. The Fortress was now getting a better look at him as well, and his early alert kicked on. They had him on radar._

_ Good. Now, his telescopic sights could make out 4 panels opening on the Zodiac…he needed confirmation, though. Only when he saw smoke contrails from their missile launchers would he fire. Pulse Laser shots were too precious to waste._

* * *

_Meteor Squadron_

They came out of re-entry with their engines blazing hotter than the glowing shields that protected them. Captain Hachsturm wasted no time. He reached to his radio and opened a channel to Zodiac 5.

"This is Meteor Lead. Report your status."

The ground commander sounded haggard. _"Starfox has landed their Arwing tank. It is steadily approaching us. Our Splinter drones are being hunted by a flight of Model K Arwings within the city, and their proximity to the buildings is preventing us from engaging them directly. One of the Starfox Arwings is holding position just on the edge of the city, and we are readying to attack it."_

Hachsturm checked his altitude and airspeed. "We will be there in fifty seconds." He clicked his radio to his Squadron's private frequency. "Increase speed and go in shallow. Nobody's crashing into the ground."

Hachsturm smiled to himself as the pilots in his squadron responded to the order. Whoever that lone pilot was, they would not be alive much longer. With luck, it would be the Pale Demon.

He would give his right arm to shoot that bitch down.

* * *

_ Of course, fifty seconds could almost count as an eternity for somebody in Merge Mode, and Milo was so focused on the shot, he wouldn't have noticed their approach anyhow._

_ His Arwings' camera kept zoomed in on the Zodiac, waiting. And waiting._

_ A flash of light. A cloud of smoke, a missile rocketing outwards. **There**. The first launcher._

_ A quarter second later, another firing, and then a third and a fourth from the other launch tubes. Milo noted them for later, and kept focused on the first target. He paused for a millisecond, pondering. One shot or two? Erring on the side of caution, Milo fired two at the narrow aperture. It was an exacting feat of accuracy, but that was why he was there._

_ It took 3.46 seconds for his high-powered energy bolts to reach their target. They threaded the needle of the launcher's protective shutters and tore through the delicate and unprotected weapons behind it. An enormous secondary explosion from the missiles struck inside ripped armor plating off, carrying the wreckage out with it._

_ That made one. Hoping to deal a decisive blow before the Primals could react, Milo lined up on the second battery. Adjusted. Aimed. Fired, and fired again. Moved to the third and repeated. _

_ The fourth._

_ The confusion inside the fortress's command center must have been intense. The shutters never closed in time, and three more gaping wounds in the Zodiac were left in their place._

_ His Pulse capacitors, as unhappy as ever with the excessively fast rate of fire, warned Milo to stop pulling the trigger before he hit overload. The raccoon smiled and stepped back from the gunsight, allowing the dim hyper-reality of Merge Mode to fade away…_

And there he was, back in the present. De-fanged, the Zodiac lurched in its position. The missiles it had gotten off were still following him, but Milo turned into a low-side Immelmann and ducked back into the cover of the cityscape. The Slammers tried to follow him, but all crashed and exploded on the buildings left in his wake.

Sergeant Granger smiled again and keyed his microphone. "Zodiac's missile capabilities neutralized."

* * *

Captain Hachsturm seethed when the damage report came in. With unfailing aim and ferocity, the Arwing lingering at the edge of the city had disabled all four of the Zodiac's anti-air missile batteries. That left only the main cannon, and the short-range laser turrets. The Zodiac, for all intents and purposes, was now on strict self-defense.

According to data taken from Sector Y, one member of Starfox had shown that level of deadly accuracy. It wasn't the Pale Demon, but that pilot was a danger all the same.

"We have identified the Marksman." Hachsturm announced. "Stick to guns until we close in. I do _not_ want to lose him in that maze."

His flight responded with three unison double-clicks. They came in on their shallow approach towards the city, and the angle gave them a wide view of the brawls below. Near the edge of the city, the "Arwing tank" was beginning to engage with the armored division sent out to stop it. The bulk of Starfox flew as cover for it, with only the Marksman separated from them.

"Meteor 3." Hachsturm said suddenly.

"Sir." Came the response.

"You will support 2 to attack the Marksman. Meteor 4 and I will target the rest of Starfox."

"As you command." The two Helions separated from Hachsturm and dove for the receding fighter.

Hachsturm and Meteor 4 kept going, approaching the Starfox team off their portside high. The Arwings continued to fly straight, unaware of their doom.

He banked left, diving down behind them without misjudging the angle of descent in the slightest.

"Now, we shall see who is the better." He growled to himself.

* * *

In spite of everything that seemed to finally be going right, a sudden unease had taken root in the back of Terrany's head. The sensation made little sense: All she knew was that she didn't feel safe.

Not sure what to make of it, she reached to her diagnostics panel and tapped a button to get KIT's attention.

_"Yeah, Terrany?"_

"Check the feeds for me. Something's not right."

KIT grunted once, then started putting the camera videos from the eight Godsight Pods up for viewing. Both he and Terrany saw the inbound fighters on their final approach, early enough to see the danger, too late to do anything about it.

The launch of the enemy missiles and the screech of a radar warning blurred out her warning cry.

* * *

For Milo, the attack came without warning, without mercy. There was no sixth sense to guide him; he had left the sniper's nest, was relaxed and confident. Unwary.

He would wonder later, if he hadn't been so smug about his deathblow to the Zodiac's weapons, would he have noticed the two fighters barreling down on him? Would he even have had the sense to look up?

Instead, they snuck in behind him, ghosts in the buildings of Tanager City, and triggered their attack radars. They got lock immediately, and each fired a pair of missiles.

_"Inbound missiles. Warning, inbound mi…"_ Was all his ODAI got out before the projectiles homed in. They didn't explode into a cloud of shrapnel like the NIFT-24 Slammers had tried to earlier; upon reaching optimal distance, each warshot ignited a smaller charge inside of the hull, fragmenting the skin apart and sending the hardened projectile in the heart of the missile to smash through shielding and ship. As though his shields hadn't even been there, Milo's Seraph shuddered under the impact. Two of the slugs screamed by without directly hitting, their super-sonic speed still bleeding off shield strength as they passed. The last two missiles hurled their density rods and skewered him. The G-Negator on his left wing was blown apart from one penetrating shot, and the second came in low, aimed up, and took his nose off. Pieces of his Arwing scattered in his wake, and Milo suddenly found himself fighting with the ship, trying to keep it airborne when it no longer flew as an Arwing was supposed to.

"Oh, _shit." _He got out. Gritting his teeth, he put both hands on the control stick and tried to steady his ship.

_"Critical damage sustained. Port G-diffuser offline. Merge Mode offline. Pulse Laser offline."_

"Shut up and tell me what works, you daffy machine." Milo snapped, suddenly, frantically, emotional.

_"Cabin pressure lock and FTL undamaged."_

Milo yanked his stick hard right, pulling his dragging wing up and away from the ground. "So my radio's out, then?"

_"Subspace transceiver online. Optical transmitter offline."_

Smoke trailed from his ruined G-Negator pod. The work of their missiles done, the Primal fighters opened up with their lasers to cut him down.

Milo swore and switched to the team's scrambled frequency. The Primals would hear it, probably translate it, but he was out of options. He tried to jink away from their attack, but his Seraphs was getting more sluggish by the second. With only one G-Negator pod running, he'd lost half his maneuverability and half of his shield strength.

"Milo here, I'm hit bad! I've got fighters on my ass and almost no control, need assistance NOW!"

* * *

"_Jink!"_ Terrany shrieked, hearing her voice as a sliver of itself when the warning alarms drowned her out. She pulled up hard into an instinctive loop. The two missiles that had been targeting her came up in her wake, but failed to line up completely. They discharged their inner projectiles, and the scream of displaced air baked her shields.

_"Geez laweez, __**what**__ was __**that**__?" KIT demanded._

"You think I know?" Terrany countered. She'd recognized the fighters on the GSP video feed, having fought them in Sector Y. "These Helions are packing serious firepower!"

Below her, Dana and Rourke continued to be chased by the two fighters that had rolled in on them. Too close for missiles, the Helions filled the streets with laserfire, turning the Arwing's flight path into a gauntlet of light and debris.

And then Milo popped onto the radio, screaming for help as well. Numbly, Terrany realized these fighters had caught them totally by surprise.

"Raptor Squadron, we are totally defensive here. Can you assist?"

_"We've still got a few Twigs in the air, but we're on our way." _Korman promised. _"We'll head for Milo first."_

That just left Major Boskins and the Landmaster, who was taking their own beatings from the tank division in their way. Terrany bounced over to her open radio channel to warn them. _"Ground Fault_, we're taking heavy fire. You're on your own for a while."

_"Roger that, Starfox."_

"Negative, Terrany, negative!" Rourke barked, grunting over the sounds of his Arwing falling apart around him. "You stick with that tank and get it to the target, that's an order!"

"Screw your orders, Rourke! I'm not abandoning my team to a bunch of vultures!"

Terrany finished her loop and pulled in behind the two Helion fighters, then went back to her open channel. "Hey, Primals! You wanna dance, you come dance with me!" She boosted through their formation and went high.

One of the Helions took the bait, breaking off of Rourke and Dana's tail to follow her. _"The Pale Demon, as I live and breathe. You really __**are**__ an uncultured piece of filth."_ The pilot snapped.

"Yeah?" Terrany scoffed, looping away as his attack radar tried to home in on her. "You ass-licking furbeasts all look the same to me, screw you very much."

_"We are __**not**__ all the same, McCloud!" _The Primal following her roared. _"You are addressing Flight Captain Simios Hachsturm, Flight Lead of the esteemed Meteor Squadron and head of the Second Noble House of Illumination!"_

"Jeez, you Primals all like to have long names?" Terrany taunted him, weaving clear of a wild strafing line of laserbolts he threw after her. "You probably do it to compensate for your lousy flying."

_"If you think for one moment I am as pathetic a pilot as Telemos, you're sadly mistaken. I am an Elite, and Elite Primals do not lose simply because the Pale Demon of Starfox flies against them."_

**Telemos?** The name was vaguely familiar, but Terrany didn't have time to puzzle it out. The Helion chasing her finally got lock-on and fired another missile, and she swept up into another loop to break the lock. Anticipating the dodge, the Primal called Hachsturm stitched the air ahead of her with his lasers, but she rolled through the storm, deflecting every shot that came close…and sneaking in two lucky shots of her own before he could react.

The two fighters broke apart, each recovering from the rapid attack and counterattack.

_"You are not without skill."_ Hachsturm conceded, growling. _"There's fire in you, woman. I might almost spare your life, just to claim you as a concubine."_

"Go fuck your mother." Terrany spat back.

_"Knowing him, he probably did." _KIT chimed in sourly.

The Helion and Arwing turned back towards each other, going nose to nose in a dangerous game of chicken. His missiles tracked in, a charged laserbolt shimmered off of her nose.

_"Are you prepared to die?"_ Hachsturm goaded her.

"Are you?" Terrany asked in return.

Tanager City's skyline was six hundred meters below them, and the Zodiac's cannon was silent, refusing to fire into their duel. Open skies were all they had, and there would be no retreat.

* * *

_Darussian Orbit_

With neither side willing to risk their capital ships, the fighting came to a skirmish between their spacefighters. The Primals hurled out their Splinter drones and hoverturrets, and the Cornerian fleet countered with their dwindling Arbiter defense fighters and the five Arwings of Typhoon Squadron.

The two sides watched impassively as their snubfighters dueled it out in the no man's land between them…as well as they could watch, given that they were separated by the immediate airspace above Tanager City and the Zodiac's punishing Megalaser.

The slightly deranged pilot, Rex Shafer, snuck a glance towards the surface after downing an unlucky pair of Twigs. Again, he saw no sign of counterattack from the surface. The gun that had held Admiral Markinson at bay was silent.

"Why don't they fire?" He asked aloud. "We're right here!"

"And so are their own fighters." Typhoon 1, Captain Mulholland pointed out. "Maybe we hit 'em harder at Sector Y than we thought. They're playing conservatively."

"Or maybe Starfox got through, and they've offed that Megalaser base already!" Typhoon 4, the red fox named Mike Chase offered hopefully.

A bolt of laserlight streaked over Rex's canopy, and the koala swore and dove hard right. "If they had, Markinson'd be pushing a full advance. Even with Raptor Squadron, they haven't pulled it off yet." He snapped up quickly into a Cobra maneuver, then jerked his nose back down as his pursuing Splinter shot underneath him. A trio of hyper laserbolts cut through the drone's armor and destroyed its engine mount.

It wobbled ahead another twenty meters, fractured apart, and exploded into a cloud of debris. Rex righted himself and looked for another target.

"Whatever they're doing, they'd better do it soon." He mumbled.

* * *

_Tanager City Outskirts_

The Primal tank brigade knew as well as Major Boskins that he was on his own. Their attack had intensified, now that his air cover was running for their lives. The Landmaster's shielding, powerful as it was, was beginning to depreciate.

"Unh!" Boskins was rocked backwards after a particularly accurate mortar tossed the tank to the side. "All right, that's enough of _that_ shit." He rolled away from another artillery strike and pointed the Landmaster towards the largest grouping of tanks; directly east, towards the Zodiac. "Jeff, make some noise!"

The mole had been holding their bombs in reserve since they'd begun, and now he was finally authorized to tap into them.

"Sierra, Utah, Bravo!" He shouted, punching the bomb release with his thumb. A brightly glowing orb left the Landmaster's gunbarrel and arced in on the formation. Boskins and his gunner both spoke as their shot tracked down. "Sayonara, you _Ugly Bastards!"_

The bomb detonated at the punctuation, immolating the tanks. Not even waiting for the fireball to dissipate, Boskins rolled the tank around to a new target. "Spinning it!"

"Spin it to win it!" Geoffrey hollered, caught up in the moment. He held the trigger in and built up a charge, then waited until the _beep_ of his targeting sensors indicated lock-on. "Good tone!"

"Fire at will, you sorry animal!" Boskins crowed.

The mole gunner fired his shot off, watching it track in. The next formation scattered apart as its center was vaporized, and Boskins turned east once more.

"Time to get the Hell out of here."

What was left of the Primal Tinwheels closed in behind them, firing shot after shot at the Landmaster's tail.

"Damn! Major, they're still firing at us! We've gotta turn around and finish them off!"

"Negative, we'll blow them up on the run." Boskins sternly commanded.

"Boss, this gun can't swivel 360 degrees!"

"Who said anything about turning the gun around?" Boskins impishly demanded. "You just watch our rearward camera, and tell me when they're back in formation."

With Boskins bobbing and weaving down the stretch, keeping the Landmaster at standard RPMs, the Primals quickly closed in on them.

"Almost…" Geoffrey shouted out over the noise of their flaring shields. He squinted to improve his eyesight, watching the tanks start to group together. "NOW!"

"Hang on to something!" Boskins called out, and hit the hoverthrusters.

The Landmaster went skyward, gaining forty meters of altitude in seconds. The Tinwheels struggled to aim their guns up, and they succeeded only in hitting the empty air in its wake.

Boskins looked over. "Jeff, get your bomb trigger ready. You'll have to eyeball this one, and you only get one shot."

"All right, but what are you going to do, Major?"

"Advanced maneuvers." Boskins said, reaching down and manually disengaging his two hind hoverthrusters. "Get ready to flip!"

_"Flip?"_ Geoffrey exclaimed, as the Landmaster lurched and the world started tumbling. "Oh, shiiiiit!"

With only its fore hoverthrusters active, the Landmaster rolled into a midair backflip. A second later, Boskins killed the thrusters to keep their forward momentum and let inertia take hold. As he'd hoped, the tank's forward viewscreen started to show an inverted view of their pursuers. Shouting the order again wouldn't help: It was up to Geoffrey to take the shot.

Somehow in spite of being thrown clear out of his element, the mole managed to push aside a sudden case of vertigo and focus long enough to aim and fire. The curving caused by the tank's spin offset his aim slightly, and his shot landed two meters short of the front of the formation instead of dead center. The effectiveness of the move was improved by the near miss, and instead of missing the front entirely, the red explosion annihilated it. The rest, unable to stop in time, drove into the blast and either emerged as smoking lifeless wrecks, or didn't come out at all.

The Landmaster fell quickly, finishing its spin and angling its nose up as it neared the ground.

"Hang on, this is going to be rough!" Boskins cried out.

And a rough landing it was: The tank almost bounced back off of the ground on impact, and the front end settled flat with a teeth-chattering thud. The drivetrain roared as the treads found purchase, and the Landmaster tore down the street with only a small amount of complaining.

"Outstanding shot, Jeff!" The major laughed. "I knew you could do it!"

Geoffrey promptly leaned over and vomited what little bile was in his empty stomach.

"That…that was…" The mole coughed, spitting the acrid taste out of his mouth. "…never do that again."

"Son, you want to keep riding with me, you'll need a tougher constitution."

"I signed up for the armored cavalry, not the air force." Geoffrey replied. "But at least we've broken through their lines."

"Yeah. Now we've got bigger problems." Boskins guided the Landmaster out of Tanager City and set his course for the Zodiac fortress, looming in the distance. Leaving behind the skyscrapers, they zoomed past neighborhoods and small one-story businesses. "Starfox is engaged. If we don't take out that bases' superlaser, nobody on or above this rock is going to come out of this alive."

"Then let's stop talking and blow it up." Geoffrey gripped the weapons controls and readied himself.

"Ironbeak" Boskins smiled and hit the afterburners, rocketing the tank forward.

"Amen."

* * *

Terrany's gambit had pulled off half of their troubles, but Rourke still found the time to gnash his teeth and think of all the things he wished he could yell at her. Occasionally, her streak of stubbornness was endearing. This time around, it wasn't. He didn't have the time or focus to waste yelling at her, though. Dana was still right there with him, and they still had one more Helion on their six.

"Stay low or go over topcover to maneuver?" Dana fretfully asked.

Rourke hissed as another flurry of laserbolts passed over his canopy, singing his shields. "These things have too much firepower to chance a corridor dance. Go high and pray!"

The two Arwings shot up, bringing the Helion fighter up after them as well. It continued to fire wild shots after them hoping for a lucky hit, all the while tracking its attack radar for missile lock.

"If you've got any bright ideas, Rourke, now's the time for them." Dana nervously declared.

Rourke did a wide and loose aileron roll to deflect the last strafe, and got an idea from the maneuver.

"You remember the first time you and Skip fought me in a 2 on 1?"

"Hard to forget, Lieutenant. You lost that one."

"Exactly." The wolf grunted. "Only this time, I'm Skip."

Finally catching the cue, Dana rolled up and to the right in an altitude gaining barrel roll. Rourke repeated the maneuver up and to the left, forcing their pursuer to pick a target. He went after Dana, maybe hoping for an easy kill. He got a rude surprise when Rourke and Dana finished their rotation and closed in on each other; Dana in the lead, Rourke lagging behind, and the Helion fighter dead between them.

Chuckling, Rourke locked on and fired a homing laserburst. The Helion went into a wild evasive maneuver to throw off the lock, then dove for the city streets below. Rourke and Dana followed after him, and the roles of hunter and prey reversed.

Rourke kept his targeting reticule sighted in, loosing volley after volley after his foe. To his dismay, the Helion refused to go down. And worse, it started to spin in an aileron roll that seemed eerily familiar. So familiar in fact, that he almost didn't jink in time to avoid the ricochet when his own laserbolts were reflected off of the suddenly strengthened shielding and send his way.

"Shit!" He swore. "Where the Hell did they dig these guys up? We fought Helions in Sector Y, they weren't nearly as well protected as these are!"

"Looks like the Primals decided to upgrade their fighters, just for us." Dana answered worriedly. "What do we do?"

Rourke gnashed his teeth together, and quickly cobbled together a solution. Glad that the Godsight Pods kept their communications secure, he issued his order. "Pull back and take up position northwest of here. I'll guide him to you. When you see him, unleash hell."

"Got it." Dana's Seraph went up above street level and veered off, leaving Rourke alone with his target. He tightened his finger on the firing trigger and took in a breath.

"Come on." Rourke growled, cutting off the Helion's escape path to the right. It went left, and Rourke strained against his harness as the Arwing turned hard to follow it. The Primal spacefighter refused to go down, blatantly deflecting every shot that came close to it.

What the Primal didn't realize was that Rourke wasn't trying to shoot it down. That only became clear when it turned another corner and found itself in the gunsights of the Arwing that had broken off pursuit. Its wings were unfolded, and blinding white laserbursts, five in all, glowed along its leading edge.

Less than a second passed between when the transformed Arwing fired and when the five Novabursts struck their target. Meteor 4 never stood a chance.

When the cloud of noise and atomized debris settled away, Dana could make out Rourke pulling up away from the narrow corridors of Tanager City's streets.

"Good shooting, Dana." He complimented her.

_"Good planning, lieutenant."_ Came the distorted reply.

* * *

Milo found himself coughing on acrid fumes of melted plastic and ruined circuit boards. Having crippled him, the two Primal fighters were now leisurely picking away at him, knocking pieces off of his fuselage and burning holes through his wings with impunity. What little shielding he had left only protected his engines and cockpit; the bubble of deflective energy had shrunk under a sustained barrage.

"What the hell is this, international pick on Milo day?" The raccoon demanded. He hit the exterior ventilation and started forcing the noxious fumes out of the cockpit. At least the Arwing was proving its durability, Milo reminded himself. He wasn't dead yet.

"If anyone was trying to wait for the right moment to be the big damn hero, this is it!"

On cue, four Model K Arwings swung up from below and sliced through the two-man formation pursuing him, rattling them with hyper laserfire.

_"Sorry to keep you waiting, sergeant. We'll handle these bogeys if you care to evacuate."_ Captain Korman called in. After their evasive rolls, the Primals burned on towards the new targets.

Milo blew out a tense breath and nodded. "They're all yours, Raptors." Finally rid of his attackers, Milo turned to more pressing matters; namely, not crashing.

Another explosion rattled the Seraph, and ODAI immediately announced the cause. _"Warning. Critical starboard engine failure. Flow regulator error detected in port engine. Reduce power."_

"Ah, shit." Milo eased the throttle slider bar back and expanded what was left of his wings to their full 90 degree maneuvering tilt. "ODAI, what's our maneuvering thrusters like?"

_"Maneuvering thrusters and landing struts are operational. Retrograde thrusters at 30 percent. Caution advised."_

"I miss the days when jets used to have wheels." Milo gripped the stick and did his best to fight gravity as his Seraph bled off airspeed and altitude. "It would have made this so much easier."

With only one functioning G-Negator running in emergency Diffuser mode, the normally graceful Seraph handled like an unbalanced brick. It rumbled and rattled, it shimmied and it banged.

"Damn." Milo looked through his canopy. "ODAI, we're going to need a long stretch of unblocked road to put this bird down. You have any ideas?"

_"One viable route exists." _The Seraph's AI responded. _"Do you wish it displayed on the canopy HUD?"_

"No, I want you to give it to me in Moose Code. Of course I want it on the windshield!"

_"Displaying."_ A highlighted span of airspace ahead of them appeared on his windshield, transparent enough for the raccoon to see what he'd have to avoid.

"ODAI, are you serious?"

_"Command not recognized. Please repeat query."_

"Just…put down the landing struts and shut up." Milo shook his head. "Damn."

The reinforced legs of the battered Seraph extended out from its belly, further destabilizing the ship's airworthiness. The Arwing screamed over the smoking ruins of an abandoned vehicle and entered the landing corridor; a water drainage channel, partially flooded.

"Come on, baby girl. Come on." Milo coaxed it. He flexed the retros, using one short burst after another to slow himself down. The remaining thruster fuel, which had yet to even begin to substantially recharge, dipped lower and lower. It wasn't enough, and he was coming dangerously close to two closely paired support beams for an overrunning bridge.

"The hell with it." Milo pulled his throttle back all the way and jammed the retros full blast. The Seraph shuddered, and spray kicked up around him as the landing struts hit the concrete under the meter of water, squealing in protest. The forward nose strut gave out under the strain and broke off, crashing the plane headfirst into the watery runoff and the covered concrete.

The added friction, and the grating nails-on-chalkboard sound it conjured, did the trick. Just ten meters short of a violent impact, the dying Arwing ground to a halt. The starboard landing strut gave out, and the ship flopped on its side.

The Seraph powered down automatically, killing the fusion generator and nearly every system as well. Only ODAI's circuits and memory core were left online, leeching on batteries.

_"Cascade system failure. Radio array offline. Remaining emergency power is now at 20 minutes. This program will commence auto-shutdown in 15 minutes to protect flash memory."_

Milo undid the straps of his harness after pushing the canopy release. By the time his Arwing had unfurled to let him out, the ring-tailed raccoon was free.

"Any landing you can walk away from, right?" He joked. Once outside of the ship, he located the exterior emergency supply hatch beside his entry ladder and opened it up. From the cramped space inside, he removed two red signal flares and popped them open. Red smoke and sparks hissed angrily to life, and he threw them downwind of his wrecked bird, managing to land them on an outcropping of debris that stuck up from the water. The flares soon kicked up a thick signal cloud that marked his position. In another minute, it would fill the corridors of Tanager City, making a trail.

Milo crawled back into his tilted cockpit and removed his flight helmet, running a paw through his headfur with a sigh. It was going to be a long wait before anyone came to pick him up.

"There goes my perfect flying record."

* * *

_Raptor Squadron_

Raptor Squadron quickly learned that the two Helions they had elected to fly against weren't pushovers. In forcing the Primals to give chase, they'd provided an opening attack angle for their foes that was hard to break. At least they knew the attack was coming; the threat of the Primal's unique impact missiles was their primary concern.

At the grating sound of a fourth missile lock, Captain Korman finally came up with an offensive solution.

"Four, with me. Two, Three, tighten it up. Pop a pretzel!"

A foursome of the Primal's ship-killing missiles streaked towards them, and Raptor Squadron broke formation. Paired up, the divided Arwings looped up high and away from one another, forcing the Primals to either split up to pursue both groups or let one escape to stay grouped on the other.

They stayed grouped, and tailed after Captain Korman and Raptor 4.

Holding tight in his turn, Viper glanced back over his shoulder to confirm the pursuit. "Nash, Gav, they're glommed on us."

"No problem, Viper." Raptor 2 replied. "We're charging our shot now. Just close up the knot."

"You'd better be marking my tail, 4." Viper warned.

"You know it, cap'n!" The excitable Titus Angor mewled.

As the Arwings came out of their turn, Raptors 2 and 3 slowed up, letting their compatriots nose ahead of them after the parallel U-Turns. The Helions, focused on the kill, followed, allowing the untethered Model K Arwings to slip in behind them. With the Primals' glowing engines shining in their face, lock-on was immediate. Raptor 2 and 3 fired simultaneously, and their homing shots tracked in and exploded on the formation perfectly.

"Yeah!" Gunther Nash whooped. "That'll show 'em!"

"Good shooting, boys." Captain Victor Korman congratulated them. "Just like we practiced."

The celebration proved to be ill-timed, however; the Helions emerged from the residual cloud of laserlight a little scalded, but otherwise intact. They wasted no time in closing after Raptor's flight lead, firing lasers as though they had energy to burn.

"Shit!" Captain Korman swore, rolling to deflect the ferocious barrage. "These guys are tougher than the average Primal."

"Hang on, Viper, we're coming!" Raptor 3 cried out.

Korman pressed his lips tight together. "Surprise didn't work, fellas. Looks like we're doing this the hard way."

* * *

_Darussian Orbit_

_Primal Flagship Firestarter_

Praetor Seiss had thought victory inevitable. They had dominance on the ground, dominance of the skies. Broadcasting the feeds from the Zodiac and the gunsight cameras of Meteor Squadron had been icing on the cake. Everyone at Homeworld would have seen his triumph. After all, Meteor Squadron _had_ disabled and nearly killed the Arwing pilot nicknamed by their Armada as "The Marksman."

But that small victory had come at tremendous cost. The Zodiac's missile banks had been annihilated. The Arwing Tank Starfox had brought with them had survived, and had blasted through the armor force within Tanager City. Now, even Meteor Squadron was at risk.

Failure to the Primals was unthinkable. Few dared give voice to that shortcoming of their limited military education: That their rigid code of victory or death, of honor and glory, of the feebleness of their women and all women, might be wrong. The Lord of Flames had returned them home. Their ancient enemies were destroyed. With such feats, with a swath of conquered and subjugated systems and generations of victory due him, no Primal dared to question the Living God.

And yet Starfox's best pilot, the one whom they called The Pale Demon, was a woman.

And Starfox was winning.

Seiss came to a decision. "Order all ships to go into low orbit. We will open fire on Starfox when they are within range!"

The officers on the bridge looked at one another in surprise, and barely veiled fear. They knew that to question the order would earn them a quick death for insubordination. Only Seiss's most trusted advisor spoke, and even then, in respectful suggestion.

"The proximity of Meteor Squadron to Starfox increases the possibility of a friendly fire accident substantially, Praetor. Moreover, our main weapons are likely to miss at this range. The city below would take the worst of it."

"I will turn this entire _planet_ to glass if it means destroying that accursed Starfox!" Seiss raged. "My victory is at hand. Order the Zodiac to fire on any Cornerian vessels that give chase. The reign of Starfox's so-called supremacy ends today!"

* * *

_SDF Flagship Vigilant_

"Holy…Admiral, we've got movement!" The main radar officer called out. "The Primal Armada is descending from high orbit and closing over Tanager City's airspace!"

"What, all of them?" Markinson exclaimed.

"Yes sir, admiral. Every capital ship."

Captain Gireau frowned. "Unbelievable. They're closing the noose."

"No, they're tying their own." Markinson coolly corrected him. "That's not a calculated move, it's a desperate reaction. Starfox must be really taking it to them on the surface, and they're willing to risk a full engagement with us to stop them." The panda stroked his chin for a moment, then nodded. "Order the 4th Fleet forward after them. We can't leave Starfox with death over their heads."

"But they haven't sent the signal for the Zodiac's destruction, admiral." Captain Gireau protested. The toucan clearly was unhappy with the order. "As soon as we get in range, it'll open fire on us!"

"Then we'd better hope that Starfox wrecks it quickly. Order all fighters to form a screen. I want Typhoon Squadron at the lead."

Markinson gripped the railing behind Captain Gireau's seat and braced himself as the 4th Fleet's flagship rumbled from its stationary orbit.

"Creator help us all now." He breathed.

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

In the span of a handful of days, things within the Hall of Antiquity had taken on a distinctively familiar feel. The animals of Venom had been processed by the local authority. Most were dead now. A handful of desirables, selected for their appearance (In the case of the females), skills, or strength had been kept alive and put into slave collars. Their simian "cousins" who had converted to the faith had a touch more freedom, but every one of them knew their status was that of a second, perhaps even third class citizen.

Captain Telemos spied a few of them as he walked down the hallways. They glanced up briefly, then quickly, fearfully, averted their eyes away. The women especially. Many of their female cousins were quite attractive. Telemos wondered, if they had known that women were afforded few privileges and only one avenue of service, would they have been so quick to submit?

Well, no matter. They would have joined the breeding rooms' occupants one way or the other. At least in submission, they spared themselves the collar and worse treatment. Though they had no rights, the house mothers were treated well and accorded respect. So much as females could gain respect.

He stepped out of the main corridor and down a smaller one. Another turn took him to the doorway of a rest center established for the lower-ranked officers. The brooding Telemos found it empty, save for…

"Grandflight Gatlus?" Telemos blinked, honestly surprised at his superior's presence. Someone of his rank and status could have partaken of the comforts in the facilities designated for the Elite and noble-housed Primals. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"At my age, there is little use in breaking with habit, boy." Gatlus winked. He gestured around the empty room. "Sit, Telemos."

The leader of Phoenix Squadron did so, noting that the room's viewscreen was activated, and showing combat in space and on the ground.

And there were Arwings. Telemos felt his heart freeze. "What is this?"

"A live feed from the planet that the Cornerians call Darussia. Praetor Seiss has been broadcasting it over the Battlenet for a few minutes now. I am surprised that you hadn't been made aware of this."

The younger Primal's fist clenched before he could stop it. Darussia was where Simios Hachsturm and Meteor Squadron had been assigned. It was _his_ Helion fighters that now fought against Starfox. "I have been…journeying in thought." Telemos finally admitted.

"I can imagine why." The sharp-minded Gatlus coughed. "Do not worry yourself, captain. Just because your squadron was not assigned a posting does not mean that the Council has abandoned you. Surely, they would not give you the newest fighters of the Armada if they had."

"No. It just means that they have very little faith in us." Telemos sat beside Gatlus and turned to the screen. His superior was watching without sound, he noticed. The ships in Seiss's orbiting force closed closer to the planet, and unleashed a rain of Hell towards the surface. Transfixed, Telemos watched as the orbital bombardment shot past Arwings and Helions alike, threatening everything.

"The foolish ass." Gatlus scowled, his faded fur bristling. "He threatens his own forces? I would love to see him be so careless with his own life. His ego has finally gotten the better of him."

"It…" Telemos started, attempting a neutral remark. He was shocked at how freely Gatlus spoke. Such candid remarks could earn severe punishments if lesser officers would voice them.

Gatlus turned and stared at Telemos with a hard gaze. "You, of all people, Telemos, should know better than to try and tarball me. Speak honestly, or hold your tongue. We have enough brainless troops already."

Telemos blinked, surprised at the gesture. Gatlus was suspending the rules of conduct for him. He took a moment to compost himself, then exhaled. "He is wasting ammunition. He has more of a chance to hit his own men than he does to take out an Arwing."

"A sound declaration." Gatlus said approvingly. He looked back to the screen, watching the dogfights. "Besides, Meteor Squadron has already downed a member of Starfox."

Instantly, Telemos was on edge. "The Pale Demon?"

Gatlus grunted. "No, they weren't that lucky. They took down The Marksman." Telemos reflaxed, and Gatlus noticed it from the corner of his eye. "Why are you so obsessed with The Pale Demon?"

"Because I will have my vengeance." Telemos reflexively snapped.

Gatlus, unconvinced, turned his head again. "Tell me another one. You have said, publicly, that this…Terrany McCloud…is yours to defeat. It is target fixation, Telemos. A pilot of your ability should know better."

Telemos went still for a moment, and Gatlus prodded him. "Just tell me."

Telemos breathed softly. "Did you watch the footage from my combat cameras? When they first attacked our Homeworld?"

"Back when you were still flying Burnouts? Yes. I reviewed your duel with The Pale Demon."

"I have watched it once every day since then." Telemos said. "I tried to reason how she beat me. In spite of her aircraft's abilities, she refrained from them, and defeated me anyway. That duel, that damned McCloud bitch, flies in the face of all our most cherished beliefs."

"Because she is a woman?" Gatlus inferred.

"No. At first, yes, but there is more to it." Telemos got out, strangling what he meant. "I have never lost in a battle, much less a duel. I attacked with everything I had, and she still defeated me. She spared my life, Grandflight." Telemos's controlled exterior finally cracked. "Why did she do that? It was the ultimate humiliation!"

Grandflight Gatlus smoothed out the wrinkles in his uniform. "You were still in pilot training when we attacked the Ildan colonies, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you would not remember that they, too, had a different way of doing things. Many of our pilots then had similar encounters, being shot down, yet spared. I remember how confused our commanding officers were as they reviewed the lists of casualties; always more hardware than people. I had the opportunity to speak to one of their pilots at the formal surrender, and I asked him why they had been so merciful." Gatlus leaned in. "Would you care to guess what he said?"

"It would not be a good one." Telemos admitted.

Gatlus smiled. "He said that it would do them little good to defeat us if they became us in the process."

"That makes no sense." Telemos scoffed.

"And that is what I thought at the time as well." Gatlus nodded. "Their worlds were spared in exchange for continued shipments of weaponry from their North Ildan Field Technologies, an arrangement that no other conquered people holds claim to. But the history lesson aside, I have thought on that for many years now, and finally came up with an answer. I believe it might help you now in your own problem.

"What was it, then?"

"We believe…are taught to believe in victory at any cost. For all their technological might, the Ildans clung to a moral imperative; minimal destruction. To win, they would have had to throw away that ideology, and they refused to. To them, a defeat based proudly on their principles was the only acceptable outcome."

Telemos nodded, indicating he had heard, not that he had understood.

"I wager you are obsessed with The Pale Demon because, even unspoken, you believe that there is something in how she flies and fights that answers the curious mysteries of how the Cornerians differ from us."

"If there is such a secret, then I must have it." Telemos readily agreed. "It could be the key to this entire war. But how will I know it when I see it?"

"Only you can answer that, Captain Telemos." Gatlus admitted. "I cannot give you your solution, only repeat mine." He looked to the viewscreen just as it flashed to the duel between Meteor 1 and The Pale Demon. "I hope you can learn it from her, but you may not get the chance. Simios is a capable pilot as well."

Telemos watched the dogfight through Simios's gunsight cameras for all of five seconds before rendering his verdict. He chanced honesty, as Gatlus had. "Hachsturm is outmatched. Praetor Seiss has already lost."

* * *

_Tanager City Airspace_

The air became filled with laserbolts, shooting down from high above.

"Oh, damnit!" Terrany swore, veering away as a bright red beam seared the air she would have occupied. "Where the Hell is this coming from?"

_"According to the GSP cameras, from above us. Way up above us." _KIT reacted.

Terrany checked her rearward camera, surprised to see that her pursuer, Simios-whatever-his-name-was, was having as much trouble in evading the indiscriminatory salvo. "Hey, Simios! Those your people shooting at us?"

_"If it is, then it would seem you have bigger problems than you thought. I don't give up a chase because of incidental concerns!" _Simios snarled back.

Terrany threw her Seraph into a snap-roll, dodging a blast of laserfire from the Primal behind her. "Nice to know you care so much."

_"The Hell with this guy, Terrany. Let's Merge, we can take him down easy." _KIT suggested.

"No, I'm doing this on my own, Falco." Terrany rebuked him.

_"Hey, are you nuts? From the chatter I'm hearing, these guys are a cut above the others we've faced. The smart thing is to hit him hard with everything we've got!"_

"Since when did you start worrying about the smart thing?" Terrany asked her AI. "If you were going up against a single member of Star Wolf back when you were alive, and my granddad swooped in to save you when you didn't ask for it, what would you have said to him?"

KIT thought about it for a moment before he chuckled. _"I would have told him to worry about his own hide."_

Terrany dove into a Split-S, attempting to shake her pursuer loose. "So let me do this myself."

_"You know, you don't have anything to prove." _ KIT sighed.

Terrany went into an aileron roll to deflect a stray shot as the Helion fighter tracked in, then reversed direction again. "I have everything to prove."

Cut out from the conversation within the cockpit, Meteor 1 observed silence, and read into it falsely. _"Are you worried, Demon? You should be. It is wise to concentrate as much as you can. You may get to live a few more seconds."_

"Boy, you Primals are lousy at backtalk." Terrany grunted, pulling up and away. "But I suppose you've got to have something you're compensating for."

She spotted him following her through the turn, and then suddenly, quietly, reversing it. As she continued through her high yo-yo, he countered with its opposite, a low-yo-yo. The end result would be a criss-cross, a critical moment when whoever could slow up the most would have the other in their gunsights. The logical action, Terrany knew from the Academy, was to hit the brakes, risk a stall-out, and meet him nose to nose when she dropped down and inverted in the fall of her turn. But another impulse came on more strongly.

**Trust your instincts.**

Grinning for a reason her waking mind couldn't understand, Terrany increased thrust and tensed against the vibrations and G-Forces. The shift sent her rocketing forward, which also widened her loop. When she reversed and dove down, inertia and speed increased dramatically. The strategic effect was immediate. By the time Meteor 1 finished his turn and lined up for a passing shot, Terrany had already blown past him, diving underneath and behind the Helion.

_"You're good, Starfox, but speed isn't everything!" _He banked towards her again, and his radar whined as it zeroed in for missile lock. _"Too bad you picked the wrong fight."_

"That's the only kind I know how to pick." Terrany snarked, bursting towards him. She gave KIT an order to kill the microphone in her cockpit again before speaking up. "He's pretty good, Kit, but I think I know how we can surprise him." She explained the plan to him, and the AI laughed incredulously.

_"Unbelievable."_

"What is?"

_"I used to call that move the dead spin. Guess we really do think alike."_

"When it works, it works." She admitted. The Helion closed in hard and fired, and Terrany's alarm went off. "Here we go!"

KIT applied a brief boost of forward maneuvering thrust, then killed the engines. A stillness that Terrany still found unsettling fell over her Arwing, and it looped through the air on momentum alone, straining the airframe. A half-turn later, she was upside down and looking behind her, just as the Helion fired. Terrany's hand skidded across the surface of the throttle slider bar, and her twin engines roared back to life. The edges of her vision went black as the G-Diffusers struggled to compensate, and after a painfully long second and a half, the Arwing rocketed forward. The missile, too close to adjust, lost tracking and screamed through the vapor of her contrails. The maneuver wasn't entirely successful, though: A hasty re-adjustment by Simios, a brake and a nose-up steer, let him strafe Terrany with several shots as she passed by.

Laughing, Simios applied thrust again and turned to follow the wounded Arwing. _"A clever trick, but I could anticipate it. I'm a better pilot than Telemos ever was. You have no tricks left, Pale Demon!"_

As he came about and readied the chase, Meteor 1 glanced ahead, below, and above where he was. The Arwing had somehow, against all odds, vanished.

Simios had fallen victim to his own pride, and failed to look behind him. If he had, he would have seen the Arwing pulling down out of its loop and lining up behind him. There was no lock warning, no missed shots to alert him. Terrany's first staccato blast of hyper lasers punished his rearward shields, and sent him scrambling to go evasive.

"I suppose I'll have to make some new ones, then." Terrany responded icily.

* * *

_Tanager City Outskirts_

Days of dying, days of pain, and at long last, Ironbeak Boskins was finally staring down the singular Primal asset that had stalled the 4th Fleet's advance. It sat just off of the main highway, having rolled clear of a mess of craters in the earth dug out by the orbital laser bombardment. Though the thick, armor-reinforced treads underneath the platform were immobile, there was little doubt in the reservist's mind that it would lurch into movement, given the opportunity.

It resembled a castle of sorts, deadly and bristling with armaments. The main superlaser cannon stood at its top, kept protected by a hemispherical dome that allowed it free movement and a full sweep of the skies.

The Landmaster's systems reported an overall positive picture. In spite of the ferocious bombardment from overhead, the tank had suffered little damage, and both the shields and the hydrogen booster reserves had gotten a chance to replenish by a goodly amount.

"Big son of a bitch." Geoffrey muttered, flexing his paw on the gunstick.

"Bigger they are, Jeff…" Boskins said, tossing out the old adage. He revved the engine and narrowed his eyes. "You ready to fry this son of a bitch?"

"And the boat it rode in on."

The Landmaster's rear boosters lit up, and the front end raised off of the ground slightly as the treads shoved the heavy assault vehicle forward.

At last aware of the threat, the Zodiac's smaller weapons arrays turned on and began to pepper the Landmaster with shots. Most of them were smaller throughput laser cannons, which marred the shielding but failed to do any real damage. It also carried frangible rounds, however, and those were more ominous as they kicked up dirt and shrapnel around the Landmaster.

"Pick your targets and go, Jeff! And hang on!" Boskins crowed. He rolled the Landmaster left to avoid a heavy shelling, and the mole, finally used to the dizzying spins of the tank, unloaded on the Zodiac's defenses with a charged laserburst and a sweeping stream of elliptical rounds. A few cannons were disabled, but the behemoth itself was unfazed.

"Shit, this thing's got some serious armor, boss. I'm cracking out the bombs."

"Aim for that turret on top, son! We take that out, air support can finish this bastard off!"

The Landmaster righted itself, and Geoffrey moved the red targeting reticule. It lined up on the domed top, and he pulled the bomb release.

The glowing red projectile soared for the Zodiac's dome, and exploded on impact. "Bingo!" Geoffrey hollered, as the deadly photonic explosion battered the Zodiac. Though blinded by the heart of the explosion, there was no mistaking how the outer armor of the defense battery warped and peeled from the combination of heat and pressure.

The exhilaration was short-lived, however. The dome, and the main megalaser, remained intact. As if to taunt them, it aimed upwards and fired again.

"Damn!" Boskins hit the undercarriage boosters and took the tank vertically to avoid a shelling that exploded underneath them. Shards of hot metal sliced through their shields, carrying enough residual kinetic energy to rattle them. "Tell me you've got more power, son."

"Bah. The Cornite blasting cell's starting to show deterioration. I've got enough for one more shot, maybe two." Punctuating the severity of their situation, the Zodiac's carriage base finally turned on, and it rumbled away from them, escaping out into the plains surrounding Tanager City.

"Make 'em count, then. I'll try and keep you in close!" Giving chase, Boskins dropped the Landmaster to the ground with a beak-chattering impact and gunned the engine. The turbine and driveshaft roared loudly, and sent them after it. Several of the armaments on the Zodiac's upper battlements were twisted and charred from the attack, but enough remained in the ludicrously overpowered station to throw even more flak and firepower down at them. With instincts that were finally sharpened to where they had been a decade before, Major Boskins rolled, tilted, and weaved his way through the firestorm, always managing to keep his forward angle on the station.

"Hold her steady. Steady now, steady…" Geoffrey called out. He squinted his already narrow eyes and tried to adjust for the Landmaster's wobbly movement. The mole pulled the trigger, and the shot rocketed off. His aim was off the mark by a hair, and swearing, he punched the trigger to manually detonate it. The smart bomb went off twenty meters behind and to the left of the Zodiac's megalaser, battering it, but failing to connect with the very much needed direct hit. Ground zero of a Cornite bomb blast was so much more dangerous than the outer, or even inner radius. "Damn!"

"You said maybe two, can you fire again?"

"Agh!" Geoffrey checked his weapons panel, bringing up the Cornite cell's feasibility data. Several large cracks were present in the cell, the unavoidable side effect of what producing the unstable energy blasts called for. "Maybe, but it might fizzle on us. Get me right on him, and I mean in his face, boss. Can you do that?"

Boskins checked their surroundings, and took note of a small rising hill to the right of the Zodiac's path. He gripped the steering column tightly and flexed the thruster pedals under his boots.

"Hang on to something!" The Landmaster's rear boosters ignited, and they shot off like a rocket for the hill, veering away from the Zodiac's path. Confused, the gunners inside the Primal fortress peppered a trail of exploding pillars of grass and topsoil after them. Boskins jerked them back hard left after clearing away, and sent them for the hill, keeping the rear engines blazing at full. With mammoth intensity, the Landmaster jumped off of the makeshift ramp at full throttle, heading for the Zodiac's upper levels.

"NOW!" Boskins shouted. Geoffrey needed little incentive. Their angle of attack gave him a clear, almost straight horizontal shot at their target. He aimed, fired, and the Landmaster shuddered more than usual as the Cornite power cell within the smart bomb launcher finally gave out. Its last gasp was potent, however. The final high density unstable energy blast rocketed right on target and rocked the Zodiac. The juggernaut machine wobbled from the blow as the Landmaster fell away, and the protective metal dome around the megalaser's hinged turret finally gave way. With a horrible groan of metal, the Zodiac's ultimate weapon collapsed in on itself, crushing what was left of the hemispherical dome. The megalaser slumped, pointing down at the ground in front of it.

"YES!" Geoffrey cried joyously. "Oh, fucking YES!"

Boskins chuckled and cued the radio. "All SDF forces, be advised. The Primal's supergun is down, I repeat, the megalaser is **down.**"

_"That's some damn good news, Major. I'm passing the word on to the fleet now." _Came the voice of Starfox's lead pilot. _"We've still got unfriendlies to mop up here, though."_

"Hey, take your time, Starfox. It's a hunk of metal with dinky ass guns. We can take it." Boskins boasted.

Geoffrey had kept his targeting reticule on the Zodiac as the Landmaster had recovered, watching the ruined megalaser with fascination. He spied light coalescing in the back of the broken cannon, and fascination turned to dread.

"Oh, shit. Major! EVASIVE!" Warned at the last second, Ironbeak Boskins rolled the Landmaster away just as the megalaser, torn from its aerial position, fired at point blank range. It was still functioning, just not as intended. The searing beam it fired gouged a glassy crater in the Landmaster's wake, and fell silent after a second and a half's pulse.

"Oh, terrific. Now that gun's pointed at us." Geoffrey moaned.

Boskins smoothed out his feathers and sighed. "I oughta learn how to shut up when I'm ahead."

* * *

_SDF Flagship Vigilant_

The electric news came only a moment after the blistering megalaser blasts from the planet's surface fell silent.

"Admiral Markinson! Starfox reports that the Landmaster tank has disabled the Zodiac's megalaser!"

The panda couldn't stop a victorious grin as his hands tightened on the railing behind the captain's chair. "Which means we are now fighting on even terms…or even better. All damaged ships, fall back to the second line. Order the Fleet: It's cleanup time!"

Against military protocol, a victorious yell rocked the bridge. In an instant, the officers aboard his flagship seemed to sharpen in focus. The news had changed everything. Starfox had done more than bring hope.

The balance of power over Darussia had shifted.

* * *

_Raptor Squadron_

Captain Korman ran through what he knew as quickly as he could, given that he and Raptor 4 were leading a strange chain of two Primals and Raptor 2 and 3 behind them.

The Helion fighters appeared to be upgraded; their maneuvering characteristics indicated that they were comparable to a Model K. He couldn't fully outmaneuver them. Shield strength was vastly improved; the surprise homing laserbursts from Gunther and Daric hadn't fazed them. If what he'd heard from the chatter of Rourke was right, they even had the same shot-deflecting capacity that the Arwings carried. Not to mention, they had no qualms about firing their missiles often, which means they had plenty to burn, and were willing to, even for a lucky shot. The favored tactics of Raptor Squadron that he had taught his men, surprise attacks, hit and runs, and blazing fast passes, no longer applied. This was a full out dogfight.

_Think of something. Of anything._ Because it wasn't just him in this mess, it was his wingmen. Korman was often accused of being a coldblooded bastard by other pilots in the corps, and not just because of the fact that he was a Venomian lizard. The truth was, he had designed his tactics to minimize risk in all situations. This wasn't his kind of fight, and he was afraid; not for himself, but for those under him. This was a different ball game, and it scared him.

"Stay paired up, people." He got out, feeling a dryness creep into his throat. "They're not going to fall for split tactics this time."

"You want us to stay high, Viper?" Raptor 3 asked. "We might be able to nail these guys off of you still."

"This close to shooting us down?" Viper wondered aloud. "I doubt it. You can't get them both." The problem was trying to turn this from a dogfight into his kind of battle.

The Helions chasing him locked on and fired a pair of missiles each; four in total, aimed for him and Raptor 4, the youngest member of his flight.

"Break left!" His wingman responded immediately, following him as they went into a High-G turn to spoof the chasing missiles. Two of them lost tracking and soared harmlessly into the distance, but the other two followed closely enough to trigger their warheads. Thankfully, the inner metal slug within the NIFT-29 Coronas missed, but not by much. The vacuum blast wave that they created buffeted their shields and caused the scrapped pieces of missile debris to bounce into them. Shaking from the impact, Korman could only hiss as his shield gauge took an immediate eight percent drop. Just from a near miss.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Worse, the Helions were still following them in the turn, staying close enough behind that to break out of it would mean opening themselves to the Primal's gunsights.

Salvation came by surprise to both "Viper" Korman and the Helion pilots. Raptor 2 and 3 rocketed overhead, strafing the Primals before streaking on past.

"What the Hell was that, Gunther?"

"An idea!" Came Raptor 2's immediate reply.

Enraged at the pass, one of the Helions broke off pursuit of Viper and Raptor 4 and turned after the newcomers. The other stayed on Viper's tail, though the momentary wobble caused by Raptor Squadron's second formation allowed Viper to gain some much needed breathing room.

"Watch out, Gunther, you've got one marking your tail!" Raptor 4 warned him.

Gunther Nash actually chuckled over the radio. "Just what I wanted. Viper, finish out your turn and bring it to a level speed course, bearing 120."

"Why in blazes would…" Viper started to ask, but caught himself and shook it off. "Understood, Raptor 2."

Running more on faith than anything else, Raptor 1 led his wingman through the rest of the maneuver and brought them out of it directly on the heading his second in command had indicated. It only took a few seconds before he spied Raptor 2 and 3 coming right at him, with their own bogey in hot pursuit.

Viper realized what his man had planned, and he broke out into a smile. _The hardest part about playing chicken is knowing when to flinch._

"Guns or bombs, Gunth?"

"You aim for me, I aim for you. 3, 4, same thing. Dead drop!"

"Roger!" Raptor 4 reacted.

"Roger." Raptor 3 said, an unheard giggle in his voice.

Viper kept his plane straight and ignored the strafing laserfire that swept over his canopy from behind. "Do it."

At a half kilometer out from each other, closing rapidly, the four Model K Arwings dumbfired their smart bombs, aimed at their opposite in the deadly game of chicken. Naturally, the Helion fighters, detecting no radar lock-on, and seeing that the shots seemingly weren't meant for them, kept coming, determined to make their kills.

At the last possible moment, Raptor 1 and 4 broke high, while 2 and 3 broke low. With pinpoint accuracy that would have made Sergeant Granger proud, their smart bombs impacted on one another and exploded in a fireball four times as powerful as a single Cornite detonation was on its own. The radius of red light and noise swallowed the Raptors, but more importantly, it engulfed the Helion fighters as well. So intent had the Primals been on the kill, they had failed to leave themselves enough room for an escape.

When the light died down, the smoking, melted remains of the two Primal fighters tumbled down for the ground below, still on opposite courses, finally and utterly destroyed. Whatever traces of life might have been left in their injured pilots was snuffed out as the Helion's reactor cores lost containment, and they exploded in a pair of miniature fireballs.

Korman let out the breath he'd been holding and nodded. He'd looked up through his canopy and down, and seen the explosions. Confirmed kills. "All aircraft, form on my wing." He leveled out and set a course for Tanager City's central airspace again, keeping it at 1500 meters.

The Model K Arwings of the 17th Raptor Squadron linked back together again, and Viper toggled his radio.

"Damage?"

"A little banged up, but I'm fine. Thank the Creator for bomb-cancelling shielding." Raptor 4 sighed.

"No problems to report." Raptor 2 sagely offered.

"I've got this crick in my neck, but that's just from trying to look down blouses in my spare time." Raptor 3 joked. The off-color remark earned a much needed hearty laugh from the team. "But no, I'm fine."

Viper checked his own systems: Shields at 76 percent and rising. "Good work, team. Gunther, how did you come up with that?"

"Easy, boss. I thought like you." The polar bear smirked over their vidlink. "Given the choice, you'll always go for a strafing run over a turning fight. And since we couldn't do it from the start and get them all in one pass…I figured we'd force them into it."

"By playing chicken." Korman laughed. "Damn, when did I teach you that?"

"You taught us to think, Captain." Daric Gavalan, Raptor 3, replied. "That's all you ever needed to."

_"Nice kill, boys." _The voice of Starfox's second female pilot, Dana Tiger, came over the secure LOSIR feed from the Godsight Pod network. _"How are you all holding up?"_

"Just a few scrapes, nothing we can't manage." Viper responded. He glanced to his radar to sight her, then visually confirmed her presence as the Seraph swung up from below to pass by their formation. She was alone, however. "Where's the rest of Starfox?"

_"Terrany decided to go up against this squadron's flight lead on her own. Rourke's going to back her up now. No sign of Milo yet, and he's not responding on the radio. But I've got new marching orders for you, if you're up for it."_

"What needs killing now?"

_"We're heading up into low orbit to take out that fleet. Are you up for it?"_

"Five Arwings flying to take out an entire fleet that's probably already engaged?" Viper questioned jokingly. "Hell yes. Mind if I take the lead?"

Dana drifted back and took up position to the left of Raptor 2, turning the four man formation into a full V formation. _"Raptor 1 has the lead, aye."_

The five Arwings turned their noses straight up, and Korman reached for the thruster controls. "Light 'em up, then. Let's kick some ass."

Fireballs lit up behind them, and the Arwings shot up like rockets. A sonic boom rattled Tanager City underneath them as they passed the sound barrier and kept accelerating. In seconds, they were tiny silver and blue dots, racing for the heavens.

* * *

_Darussian High Orbit_

_SDF Flagship Vigilant_

"Sir! We've got five hard radar signatures coming up from the surface!"

"Theirs or ours?" Captain Gireau asked, cutting in before Admiral Markinson could voice the question himself.

The radar officer zoomed his display in and smiled. "I'm getting IF/F signatures. It's Raptor Squadron and a Starfox Arwing!"

"Where are they headed, son?" Markinson demanded.

"If I'm reading their course right, straight up the line towards the Primal Armada, sirs." The radar officer smiled. "Speed is at maximum, they'll intercept in 20 seconds!"

"So let's clear them a path!" Markinson pointed a claw at the viewscreen, and the Primal ships. "All guns, focus on the rear guard. Order all Arbiter ships and the 5th Squadron to get in close and raise Hell. Let's close this trap up!"

* * *

_Tanager City Airspace_

Simios whatever-his-name-was had proven himself to be a capable hunter, well-versed in the advanced aspects of the dogfight. But Terrany, for reasons of ego or pride or family honor, had refused to simply let him win. Without the assistance of KIT and Merge Mode, she had turned the tables on her pursuer, and now the leader of Meteor Squadron was on the defensive.

_"Damn you!"_ Simios screamed, going into a hard braking turn. Keeping her speed up, Terrany angled upwards, inverted, and turned down into him. Another salvo of laserbolts rocked his Helion, and he spun wildly to deflect the last few shots.

"Where you going, Primal? I'm not through with you yet!" Terrany goaded him.

_"Who are you, girl?" _Simios frantically demanded. _"By our Lord, __**who are you?"**_

"I'm the Pale Demon!" Terrany exclaimed, sensing a sudden jink coming. She aimed slightly right and punished the move with supernaturally active aim. "I'm Terrany McCloud, granddaughter of Fox McCloud. I'm the best pilot in Starfox, and most of all, I'm the woman that's going to shoot you down!"

In desperation, Simios shot upwards, trying to finally throw her off. As if she had seen it before he even thought of it, Terrany swung her nose upwards and lanced the air ahead of him with her guns. The Helion's shielding flared once more and finally buckled. A lucky shot struck something vital between his engines an instant later, and the thrusters of the Primal fighter gave out. It soared upwards, bleeding off the last of its momentum, then nosed over and started to fall.

Terrany decreased speed and dove after him, taking up position beside the mortally wounded fighter. She glanced over through her canopy and his, finally seeing Simios in person. His appearance made her blink in surprise. Even with the blood streaming from his forehead, there was no mistaking his nearly hairless face and pale skin.

"You're not a Primal."

Simios laughed weakly at the accusation, pushed into his seat by the G-Forces of his rapid descent. _"I am an Elite Primal, Terrany McCloud. My kind are more advanced than you would dare to believe."_

"Not advanced enough." Terrany shook her head. "You lost the fight, Simios. I hope you remember that when you're captured and become a prisoner of war."

An ember of defiance flared up in Simios, and the proud Primal fiercely refused. _"I am not as weak as that dishonored fool Telemos! I accept my death, knowing that I am welcomed by the Lord of Flames!"_

Stunned, Terrany realized he didn't plan on ejecting. "Are you crazy? You'd choose death over survival?"

Simios laughed again, somehow finding the strength to crane his head to the side to look on her with hatred. _"You will lose this war, McCloud. You do not understand the depth of our conviction."_

"Maybe I don't, but if all pilots are as stupid as you, I don't think I'll have to worry about losing."

Simios's head lolled forward a bit; blood loss was probably getting to him. _"Maybe…he was right." _He slurred.

"Who? Who was right?"

Simios cackled, finally losing it. _"Telemos…he believes that only he can destroy you. Even the Tribunes cling to that hope. It is why he and his squadron are still alive. Most of them."_

"Damn you, eject already!"

_"Why didn't you just kill me? Why didn't you kill him?" _Simios went on, his grip on reality slipping. _"It isn't because you can't. What you did to Hydrian Squadron…you can be merciless."_

"Eject!"

_"I see…weakness. It is a weakness. The Pale Demon believes herself so superior, she clings to mercy. A weakness. That is why…why Telemos believes only he can defeat you."_

The Helion got caught up in an errant windblast, and its course shifted out and away from the city. Before Terrany could ask any more questions, a ripple of blue laserfire stitched through his wing and tore it off cleanly. What was left of the fighter's fuselage went into a death spiral, headed down to where the Zodiac fought for its life.

Terrany jerked her head around angrily, sighting Rourke's Arwing coming up from the surface. He leveled out beside her and opened communications, voice only.

"In this war, mercy is a weakness." Rourke growled. "Don't ever forget that they would love nothing better than to incinerate you."

"You had no right to do that!"

"I had **every** right!" He thundered. Rourke seemed to compose himself afterwards, and he veered off. "Dana is taking the Raptors up to orbit. Catch up with them."

"But I…"

"That was an _order_, McCloud. You can argue around General Grey's all you want, but don't you _dare_ countermand mine."

Up to a strong simmer, Terrany went vertical and disappeared without a word.

Rourke checked his radar for any aerial targets before he sighed and swung around. "ODAI, let's set up a search for Milo. See if you can contact any surviving search and rescue teams in the city."

_"You were really upset with her, weren't you, boss?"_

Rourke inverted his Seraph and started his first sweep of the city. He no longer felt like talking.

* * *

Below, the wounded Zodiac was putting up a brave fight against the smaller, more agile Landmaster. Though there was a delay between firings of its main megalaser, that was little comfort to Major Boskins and his gunner, Geoffrey. Every time it fired, each near miss handily drained away more of their shielding, just to stop the heat blooms from baking them alive. The gunner was blasting away with everything he had left, which wasn't much after exhausting their smart bombs. Down to regular shots and charged laserbursts, he tried unsuccessfully to silence the damaged, but still functioning supergun.

"I can't break through! The armor's just too thick around that cannon!"

"Nice to know they built it to last." Boskins grunted. "New idea, then. Think you can shoot up inside of the barrel?"

"Say _what?"_ Geoffrey blinked. "I've never tried that before!"

"Just think of hitting a bullet with another bullet while you're blindfolded in a snowstorm, Jeff."

"Oh, well, when you put it like that, it seems easy." The mole rolled his eyes.

"Hey, if you've got another idea, I'm listening."

"Fresh out, major. I guess we'll have to go with yours." The gunner leaned forward and zoomed the image of the crumpled megalaser to a larger resolution. "Right after he fires, there's about a ten second delay. Next shot, get us in close."

"If you miss, Jeff, we'll be in point blank range with nowhere to go."

"Then you'd better hold her steady when I'm shooting." Geoffrey said evenly.

They shared a glance. "The Hell with it." Boskins rolled the Landmaster clear of another megalaser beam, righted the tank, and hit the boosters.

The wounded Zodiac continued to limp away, and the faster Arspace vehicle easily caught up to it. Major Boskins put them right underneath the superstructure, and the main cannon hung above them like an executioner's axe.

Boskins thought of yelling at Geoffrey, to make him shoot, but he held his tongue instead. The mole knew what had to happen, he didn't need the distraction.

Ironbeak didn't need to worry. Geoffrey aimed, noting the delicate parts of the supra-accelerator within the barrel, and fired. The first few shots glanced off the rim of the barrel, near-misses, but he found his rhythm quickly, and soon one elliptical shot after another wobbled up the pipe.

The megalaser vibrated rapidly as its components destabilized, and it finally blew apart, sending hot shards of shrapnel in every direction.

"Yes!" Boskins slapped Geoffrey on the back. "Outstanding shooting!"

"You don't keep me around for my looks, major." The mole countered wryly.

"Now there's just the matter of the rest of that thing." Boskins started to say.

He was cut off when a flaming, ship-shaped arrow of metal screamed down out of the sky. It smashed into the top of the declawed Zodiac and cleaved clean through the weakened armor, burying itself deep within.

Almost within the time it took to blink, a pillar of white-hot flame burst from the wound. The Zodiac cracked apart under the strain, and the blast wave picked up the Landmaster and flung it back like a rag doll.

After tumbling to a stop and automatically righting itself, the tank complained with two beeps as the systems collected themselves from the shock.

"Ow." Geoffrey groaned, pulling his harness buckle out from his hip. It had wedged into his pelvis on the first tumble. "Ow. Ow."

Ignoring the faint ringing in his left ear, Boskins checked the diagnostics panel for any damage to the tank. "If you're awake enough to complain, Jeff, you're fine." The diagnostics came up with only some minor warnings. The Landmaster, designed to flip and roll, had survived the blast with no structural damage. "And so is the tank." He turned them to face towards the funeral pyre of the now destroyed Zodiac and whistled. "Damn."

"Just what was that?"

"Looked like a ship to me. Hang on, let's find out." Boskins clicked his radio to get the attention of anyone listening. "This is _Ground Fault_ to Starfox. Any Starfox personnel, please respond."

_"Ground Fault, this is Lieutenant O'Donnell. What do you need?"_

"Lieutenant, we just had a ship crash into the Zodiac. It did a very thorough job in destroying what was left of it. Was that ship one of ours?"

_"Negative. The vessel was Primal. We'd just shot it down."_

"Damn." Major Boskins said. Shut down with extreme prejudice, was the better explanation. "All right, then. Our target is neutralized. Do you have another objective?"

_"One of our boys got shot down somewhere in the city. Any help you could offer in the search and rescue would be appreciated."_

"On our way." Boskins killed the radio and turned his tank around. "Damn. That kill-stealing son of a bitch."

"He took that station out by crashing a spacefighter into it. And it wasn't even his!" Geoffrey tried to come to grips with it. "His kung fu is very strong."

"No, not kung fu." Boskins rumbled. "Ship fu."

* * *

_Low Darussian Orbit_

_Primal Flagship Firestarter_

"No! No, no, no!" Praetor Kunzerd Seiss screamed. After their triumphant opening gambit, Meteor Squadron had been flattened by the surviving Arwings. The Zodiac had fallen silent after only ten shots towards the Cornerian Fleet, and been destroyed shortly thereafter. Now, the Cornerian Fleet had positioned themselves above his forces, cutting off any escape route.

And the Arwings of Starfox, their grisly work completed, were now flying up at them. His Armada, which had successfully held Darussia for days, had nowhere to go.

"Orders, Praetor?" His second in command nervously asked. Seiss didn't hear him. The Elite Primal slumped in his chair, catatonic.

"Sir, orders, please!"

"It's impossible…impossible…" Seiss mumbled.

The ship shuddered around them, and his second in command finally reacted. "Order all ships to break formation and retreat! Full retreat!"

The radioman got half of the order on the air before the _Firestarter's_ shields gave out. A moment later, a barrage of concentrated laserfire from a passing squadron of Cornerian fighters sent its engines to overload, and the mortally wounded command ship was ripped apart.

The order to retreat was painfully evident afterwards, and the Primal Armada crumbled apart. Fleeing in any direction they could, only a handful broke through the Cornerian line and fled into subspace.

In less than forty minutes, the Battle of Darussia had been decided.

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_Hall of Antiquity_

The feeds from the Battle of Darussia went to static for a few seconds, then cut out entirely the broadcast source was extinguished. Captain Telemos and Grandflight Gatlus sat in the quiet of the room, the younger not saying anything to let his superior go first, and the elder Primal saying nothing because he had nothing to say.

Valmoor Gatlus finally looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Such a waste. What did he do wrong, Telemos?"

"Simios Hachsturm?"

"No, that arrogant fool Seiss."

Telemos pursed his lips for a moment. "He should not have broadcast this battle. He believed victory was his, but his overeagerness, his crusading zeal exposed his weaknesses…and the Cornerians exploited them viciously. Now his shame is evident for all our people to see, his loss an unavoidable tragedy the Tribunes cannot dismiss away."

Gatlus nodded. "This defeat will leave our forces shaken and destroy morale. You are wiser than you know, Telemos. Or perhaps, having tasted defeat yourself, you know what it is capable of."

The younger Primal kept his flinch to a minimum, but it was still there. He changed topics, eager to shift the conversation away from himself. "What did you think of the dogfight with the Pale Demon?"

"She is confident." Gatlus grunted. "There was never a doubt in her mind she would win, and that is a double-edged sword."

Telemos didn't understand the reference. "What do you mean, Valmoor?"

"I mean…she believes herself invincible. That is a strength, because doubt never clouds her reactions. She moves with grace and elegance, dancing in those skies. That is a way of flying we have never practiced. But it is her weakness for this reason." Gatlus held up a finger. "If and when the time comes where another pilot proves her better, even for a moment…what do you think would happen?"

Telemos caught on and smiled. "She would crumble to pieces." He thought again, and the smile disappeared. "But she did not transform her ship. Wouldn't she simply unleash that vessel's full fury?"

"Perhaps." Gatlus mused, rubbing his aching leg. "But pride kept her from doing so with Simios. Perhaps our peoples are more alike than we know. Pride is our weakness, too."

"Not yours, though." Telemos pointed out to the old warrior.

Gatlus pointed back at him. "Nor is it yours any longer, Telemos." The flight lead of Phoenix Squadron swelled at the commendation, but the old man tempered his praise. "Your flaw is something else, now."

Before Telemos could ask him what he meant, a knock came at the door, and a Primal messenger poked his head inside. "Grandflight Gatlus, please forgive the interruption. The Tribunes have summoned you to their chamber."

His mind fresh on the numbing footage sent from Darussia, Grandflight Valmoor Gatlus rose up slowly from his chair and braced his weight on his walking cane. "I wonder what they want to talk about." He mused dryly. "Be well, Telemos."

"May the Lord of Flames preserve your fire." Telemos instinctively responded. Gatlus hobbled out of the room and on to his next appointment, leaving the commander of Phoenix Squadron alone in the officer's hall.

Telemos put his hands together and leaned his chin on them, wondering if his superior had meant to explain his declaration before the interruption. It was more likely that he meant Telemos to learn it for himself. And Telemos would have to.

He would have to be unbreakable in mind and body. The Pale Demon would require nothing less than his absolute best.

* * *

_Darussia_

_Tanager City_

_Storm Drain: Canal 12-41_

It was hell waiting, especially when Milo didn't have the radio on his Arwing working. He checked his service pistol's battery pack for the sixth time and told himself to relax. Nothing he could do about it now, really. Make a note to himself, was all. He could write a memo about making sure the Arwing's emergency kit had a strong handheld radio, if he got out of this. He supposed the designers figured it was moot, as the Arwing was built for space combat first and foremost.

The downed Arwing, after two minutes of deliberation, had been too large of a target for any roaming enemy forces. That conclusion had forced him up into the shadowy space of the overpass's crevasse nearby. Ducking underneath a bridge wasn't glamorous, but it was necessary at times. The funny thing was, the skies had grown quiet. The distinctive roar of those Helion fighters had vanished. He'd heard some loud explosions earlier. Since then, only silence.

The thick colored smoke of his signal flare had permeated the area, and the wind currents swept the pink cloud only meters from his position.

"Come on." He said to himself, though meaning it for the others he hoped were still nearby. "Find me already."

As if hearing him at last, a Seraph Arwing screamed overhead, hit its retros, and doubled back. They'd spotted his smoke.

A ground-rattling rumble came soon after, and the Landmaster they'd brought down safely rolled into view. It idled quietly for a moment, and then the hatch opened. A mole poked his head out and looked around, squinting. "Sergeant Granger? You still here, sergeant?"

Relieved, Milo emerged from his hiding place and strolled towards the tank, waving.

"I take it you eliminated the Zodiac, then?" He shouted at the mole.

"You'd better believe it. Hey, your flight lead's been trying to reach you on the radio!"

"That would be somewhat difficult for me to hear. My radio's fried, and so's most of the ship's other systems." Milo reached the Landmaster and hopped up on top of it, shaking the mole's hand. "Milo Granger, Starfox. Thanks for the pickup."

"Geoffrey Shortnose, Cornerian Reserve." The mole replied. From inside the tank, Major Avery Boskins coughed.

"Hey, Granger. If you're not too busy, I've got your boss on the horn." He handed up a wireless microphone earpiece. "You'd best report in."

The ring-tailed raccoon smiled and slipped the communicator on. "Milo here. That you, Rourke?"

_"Yeah. You had me worried there, Milo."_

"Sorry, lieutenant. I'll try not to make a habit of it. Mission accomplished?"

_"Affirmative. I sent Terrany and Dana orbital. How's your ship?"_

"Wyatt is not going to be happy, let's put it like that. We'll have to crate it up in a transport for the ride home."

_"Understood. Should we send someone to pick you up?"_

"No point in going home without my plane, Rourke. You grab my Godsight Pods for me, will you? Just tell the girls I'll see them soon."

Rourke did one more flyby overhead, wiggling his wings. _"Come home safe, Milo."_

"You stay alive until I do." Milo discommed and passed the earpiece back down. "Thanks, major."

"Don't mention it, sergeant." Boskins thought for a second, looking at Milo in a new light. "Were you deployed to Papetoon, son?"

"A long time ago." Milo quietly confirmed, and the easygoing raccoon seemed to shrink as he recalled that chaotic time.

Unaware of the shadow that had passed between the two older servicemen, Geoffrey looked down at the wreckage of the Seraph Arwing. He had imagined that Starfox was invincible. Looking at the proof of that fallacy, he shivered.

* * *

_Darussian Orbit_

With the Primal Armada either turned into floating scrap on degrading orbits or lost after their haphazard retreat, the elements of the 4th Fleet started to pull themselves together again. By subconscious urge, rather than order, the Arwings of the 5th, 17th, and Starfox Squadrons flew in formation on perimeter watch.

Their radios beeped at them as Rourke O'Donnell came up from the surface. Eight Godsight Pods swirled around his Seraph, reactivating their secure optical transmissions.

"We located our downed wingman. His ship's out for the count, but he's unharmed." Rourke disengaged four of the Godsight Pods riding his shields via the Draw Effect, coasting them at Terrany. "Brought your gear up, McCloud."

"Roger." A light touch on the flight stick caught them into her area of effect, and one by one, they were pulled back up into the Modular Weapons Bay in her Seraph's belly. The hatch closed a moment later. "Godsight Pods secure. You going to hang on to Milo's?"

"As valuable as these things are, I can't leave them lying around for scavengers. Everybody else okay?"

"Things got a little hairy up here for a while." Typhoon 1 complained. "And Admiral Markinson was none too happy about your leaving us, Raptor 1."

Captain Korman checked the optical interlinks for a second. Only after confirming the Arwings were the only ships tuned in to the Godsight feeds did he speak.

"If we hadn't, Pete, things could have gone a lot worse down there."

"He's right." Dana put her two cents in. "They really helped us out."

"It won't save them from disciplinary action, though." Rourke said. "Admiral Markinson doesn't like loose screws in the mix. He'll be waiting for you with handcuffs as soon as you land, Viper."

"I expected as much." The lizard sighed. "Not even Starfox can get us out of that jam."

Everyone sobered up at the news, and the airwaves were quiet. It was Dana who came up with an idea.

"Maybe not. How comfortable are you with lying?"

"Not at all." Raptor 1 responded. "Why?"

"When you land, you and your Squadron just keep quiet. The only thing you should say is that you were following orders."

"What kind of a scheme are you working up, Dana?" Terrany asked curiously.

"There's no time to explain. Just go along with it, all right captain?"

"All right. I'll trust you on this." Korman said resignedly.

_"Attention, all fighters. All fighters. Flagship Vigilant commands you to return to dock. Repeat, all fighters, return to dock."_

"I wonder if that means us, too?" Terrany joked.

"Zip it, McCloud." Rourke growled. It wasn't like him to snap at her, much less only refer to her by her last name so many times in a row. Maybe when they first met, but she had thought they had turned a very larger corner. Especially after what they'd done in the Landmaster…

"Rourke, what's your problem?" She demanded. In response, Rourke killed the Godsight Pod's optical transmitters, shutting down their connection.

On normal radio again, but using the encrypted team channel, Rourke was all grim authority. "_Vigilant_, this is Starfox. We're heading out. We'll leave the cleanup to you."

_"Acknowledged, Starfox. What about your Landmaster?"_

"Keep it." The wolf brusquely responded. He ended the connection and broke formation, turning his nose towards the Sector Y primary rendezvous. From there, they would jump again to Katina.

Quiet and confused, Dana and Terrany followed their flight lead. In unison, they activated their FTL drives and jumped to subspace.

* * *

_Corneria_

_Cornerian Space Command (CSC), Corneria City_

The technicians responsible for the spy satellite network throughout the Lylat System had been at their stations without rest for an hour. So, too, had Major General Winthrop Kagan, who was somehow living with 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night, catnaps in between, and a constant diet of caffeine and antacids.

They all had good reason to be excited. After weeks in the dark, being forced to rely on long-distance intel from a ruined and compromised network, a transport ship escorted by the 21st Arwing Squadron had blipped from point to point throughout Lylat, installing replacements. As they did, as the spy satellites made contact with the signal array at Lunar Base, brilliant dots turned on throughout the wartorn binary star system.

"Fantastic." One of the technicians marveled. The feed from high up in Solar's orbit gave them a clear view of its surroundings, and more importantly, listened in, absorbing every signal, encrypted and unencrypted, for analysis. Technicians at the CSC were already doing so, and Kagan nodded. More good news, really. A transmission from the 4th Fleet had reported their victory there, and shortly thereafter, that the 17th Squadron was being taken off flight duty pending a court-martial. Kagan wasn't sure what to make of the second notation, but he tried not to let it spoil his mood.

"Katina is coming into alignment, general."

"Very well. Are we receiving a signal?"

The communications officer hit a few buttons, doing some arcane calculations. In order to keep the _Wild Fox's_ location secret from the Primal forces no doubt hunting for it, they limited their contact as much as possible. Barring the expensive Omega Black quantum communicators, the method of choice was site-to-site laser transmission. Given the distances involved, one had to literally aim the narrow-beam signal hours ahead of where the other planet was, and even then, only when the path was clear of interceding debris or other astral bodies. It made for an effective one-way transmission: Elongated conversation was out of the question.

The communications officer nodded as his machine chirped at him. "Yes, sir! Narrow band encrypted signal is being downloaded now."

Kagan rubbed at his head. It was a Hell of a way to talk. Once upon a time, this was the absolute limit: Speed of light laser narrowband or grainy, often unreliable radio transmissions. The lynx wondered if his ancestors had felt the same about Moose Code as he did about these optical transmissions.

"Transmission complete. Would you like to handle the decryption yourself, General Kagan?"

"Naturally. Flash-copy only, if you please."

The communications officer downloaded the file to a flimsichip memory card and deleted the original. He handed it up to Kagan and nodded. "It's yours, sir."

"Very well." Kagan headed for his office. "If there's an emergency, you know where to find me."

He closed the door behind him and went to his desk. Picking up a non-networked datapad, he slid the memory card into a side access port. After a thorough scan by the devices' robust antiviral suite, it brought up the file. Gibberish, of course; symbols, alphanumerics, and blank spaces, which meant nothing at all to the naked eye.

Kagan brought up his applications and accessed a top of the line cryptographics program designed by the SDF Intelligence. He turned it loose on the transmission, and it set to work, estimating another 20 seconds before the file (Or series of files, he reflected) would become legible.

That was another advancement his forebears of the pre-FTL age would have loved, he was sure. Two hundred years ago, when a computer took up an entire room and required three air conditioners, he would have had to do such sensitive decryption by hand, with pencil and paper. The Cornerian people had come far.

But now, the Primals could wipe out all their progress and achievements within days, if they stopped fighting.

His datapad beeped at him: The decrypt had finished. Kagan brought up the file (Just one, thankfully), and began to read.

It was from his old mentor, of course: General Grey, filling him in on the latest updates and errata from Katina. It confirmed the report from Admiral Bearnam Markinson, albeit more colorfully than the precise and measured reports from the seasoned commander.

And there was more, too: Grey's report also included an unusual request. Not that the substance of it was unusual: Kagan wholeheartedly agreed with the meat of the argument. It was the subtext behind it, and specifically, the sort of top-down interference that the askance, if granted, would cause.

_Well, you always said if you're going to ask for a favor, Arnie, to make it a big one. At least you live what you preach._

Kagan removed the memory card and pulled out a glass ashtray: a gift from General Grey back when he had tried for the second time to give up smoking. He set the memory card inside of it and pulled out a long-handled lighter, then slowly burned it until nothing remained of the original message. The deed done, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes thoughtfully. In a move that wasn't very surprising at all, he came to terms with the commanding officer liaison to Starfox. He tilted back forward and picked up his datapad, then set to work composing the official declaration.

Fifteen minutes and two rewrites later, General Kagan stepped out of his office with the directive saved on a new memory card. He headed over to the officer of the watch and held it out. "A new SDF general order. Transmit it to the 4th Fleet on high priority, then standard priority everywhere else afterwards."

"Will do, general, just as soon as my intercept crew finishes their work."

Grey glanced around the command center, noting an increase in activity, but an unsettling decrease in chatter. The lynx frowned. "What's going on?"

"One of the new satellites that just came online picked up an anomalous signal beyond the rim. We're verifying it again."

"Again?" Kagan questioned.

The watch officer nodded, not looking away from the main viewscreen. "We didn't believe the transmission the first time."

"Sir?" One of the intercept techs stood up. He had an odd look on his face. "We just confirmed it. The source is legitimate."

Now more than a little interested and concerned, General Kagan edged over to a monitor and looked over the shoulder of the intercept officer stationed there. It took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at.

"Holy Hell." He said. Kagan looked up to the radioman. "Prepare an Omega Black Transceiver. We have to notify Starfox about this."

The communications officer looked skeepish. "Sorry, sir. We took down the system for recalibration. As much as we've been using it…"

Kagan shut his eyes. _Of course_. And it would be hours before Corneria's moon and Katina would line up again for a laserburst transmission. He could hail them on the open radio, try the normal encryptions, but the Primals had already proven they could break those encryptions at will.

"We'll have to wait before telling Starfox about the news." He resolved. "But they aren't going to like the delay."


	24. Inheritance

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: INHERITANCE

**The Planet Cerinia-** A lush and verdant world when the FTL drive was first created, Cerinia was discovered to already be populated by an offshoot Vulpine species. Stubbornly isolationist, Cerinia refused all but the most minimal contact from the first wave of Cornerian colonists. Its inhabitants were highly spiritual, moreso than most Cornerians, and adhered to an ascetic lifestyle. Most noticeable about them, from what few accounts of encounters existed, were that a large portion, if not all of the female population had blue fur. It was believed at the time that this coloration was artificial and ceremonial. Any attempts at sincere anthropological study were cut short when Cerinia was struck by a large astral body, a so-called "Planet killer" asteroid.

**From An Abridged History of Civilization in the Lylat System, by Professor Zallon Mallurk**

"_**There is strong evidence to support the theory that the Cerinians were, at one time, in contact with our distant ancestors. Besides the genetic similarities between Cerinians and Cornerian vulpines, their strong aversion to outside contact may be an indicator to some past incident that soured them on reaching out to visitors. Whatever conjecture may be offered, however, is just that; conjecture. With the Cerinian world devastated and its population destroyed, whatever answers may have been gained from them are lost forever. Cerinia is simply a footnote in the curious archaeological discoveries found on Titania, Aquas, and Venom."**_

* * *

_Deckmore AFB, Katina_

_Taxi Runway 2_

_Evening_

After a day of running around the _Wild Fox_ and attending to affairs business and personal, Senator Toad was finally headed back out. This suited Wyatt just fine, though he had originally not planned on being there for the Senator's departure. Slippy had forced him into it, demanding with a touch more senility than the old wart usually had that Wyatt needed to drive him down to the tarmac.

So he found himself bouncing along in the driver's seat of the jeep, with his grandfather riding shotgun, roaring down the asphalt of Deckmore's miasma of taxiways and runways. Finally, they came to a stop twenty meters short of the Rondo transport that was bound for Corneria.

"All right, you're here." Wyatt announced curtly. "Care to get out?"

"No, not especially." Slippy said, absently setting his walking stick across his lap.

A vein on Wyatt's forehead twitched. "Then why in the hell did I drive you down here?"

"So you could go say goodbye to your father."

"I have no intention of wasting any more of my life trying to communicate with that stuck-up, self-absorbed son of a…"

Faster than Wyatt could track, Slippy reared his cane up and cracked it over his grandson's head.

"OW!" Wyatt recoiled, rubbing at the injury. "What was that for?!"

"If you call him an SOB, you're insulting your grandmother, you clod." Slippy rasped. He kept his stick at the ready and motioned ahead. "You need to talk to him, and you're going to. I've wasted enough of my life with this family torn apart, and I'm not watching it linger any longer."

Wyatt hesitated, and Slippy raised his stick in warning. "All right, all right, I'm going. Frigging Lylus!" Swearing more as he stepped out of the jeep and stormed towards the transport, Wyatt zeroed in on the only blue amphibian in the crowd of passengers waiting to board.

His father noticed his approach and turned, waiting. Wyatt stopped in front of him, and the two had an uncomfortable moment of awkward silence and shuffling feet.

"Heading back, then?" Wyatt asked, when the silence got too overwhelming.

"Yes. A Senator's work is never done. But I think that's something we have in common. I've been hearing you've been working yourself to the bone putting this ship back together." Theodore Toad remarked. "Will it be ready soon?"

"Another day or two, and we'll be ready to put this bird back in the air." Wyatt said.

"Good. Good." His father nodded. "This ship is vital to the war effort, as is everyone that's aboard it."

"Yeah, Starfox has been really good about kicking the Primal's teeth in."

"Yes…but I meant everyone on this ship, not just the pilots." Theodore stumbled over the remark. "And you, especially."

Wyatt looked at him, surprised. "What?"

"I…" The blue amphibian nervously rubbed the back of his head. "This seemed easier when I thought about it."

"Look, just say it." Wyatt said, tapping his workboot on the ground. "Can't be any worse than anything else you've ever said to me."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Theodore sighed. "I've fought your life decisions every step of the way, from the very first moment you realized you enjoyed building things. The thing is, your grandfather wanted me to be an engineer, and I refused. Seeing you take up the craft…well, I felt like I was losing you to him. And the more I fought against it, the angrier I got. The angrier I got, the more I said things I shouldn't have." Not giving Wyatt a chance to reply, he pressed on. "The fact is, son, I've always been proud of you. I could never wrap my head around the work your grandfather did, and what you're doing now is beyond my comprehension. I may not have agreed with the choices you've made in your life, but…I've always respected you for having the courage to follow your own path."

Stunned, Wyatt didn't say anything for a bit. Finally, he managed to produce enough sound to speak. "How come you've never told me this before?"

Ashamed, Senator Toad lowered his head. "I always thought there'd be time to mend the fences. But this war, you, on this ship out there in the thick of it…I don't want to lose you, son. That's why I wanted you to come back to Corneria."

With more care than he'd ever shown before, Wyatt put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Dad, if I don't stay here and help Starfox, there may not be a Corneria to come home to."

"I know. I know." The blue amphibian sniffled a bit and looked up. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

Wyatt smiled. "Come on. If they couldn't kill us off when we were on a defenseless space station in the Sector X Nebula, what's the chances of them killing me when I'm on that big damn ship? Don't worry, dad. I'll be careful."

Before Wyatt could protest, his father pulled him into a stifling hug.

"I love you, Wyatt."

Shakily, Wyatt returned the embrace. "Yeah. Take care, all right? Tell everyone how hard we're fighting."

The two separated, and Senator Toad smiled. "I'll do that." Waving as he turned about, the blue amphibian boarded the transport with the other passengers, both engineers and public servants. Wyatt waved after him, smiling unsurely.

Slippy was at his side soon after, leaning on his cane. "Well, I see you two mended the fences finally."

"I guess." Wyatt shrugged. "First time my old man's ever said he was proud of me. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"It counts for a great deal, I'd think." Slippy said wisely. "At least you two are talking to one another again. Life's too short to hate your family, Wyatt. Trust me on that."

"Sure thing, gramps."

Evelyn Cloudrunner and her son wandered by them, and Slippy's secretary was already punching information into her workpad. "Mr. President, we need to hurry. The flight is departing soon."

"Be there in a minute, Miss Cloudrunner." Slippy answered.

"Wait, what? You're leaving?" Wyatt demanded.

Slippy let out a throaty warble. "I'm going back to Corneria with your father, Wyatt. It's time that he and I spent some time together. You might say you two have inspired me to extend an olive branch as well."

"But the repairs…"

"Are nearly complete, and you know almost as much about this ship as I do now. Perhaps more, what with the newer modifications you've tacked on lately." Slippy cut him off. "Don't worry, Wyatt. You were running Project Seraphim on your own back on Ursa Station. You don't need me here, you just like having me around."

"I suppose I did. You gotta get back out here soon. If not for me, for KIT."

"Falco, you mean." Slippy corrected him. The old wart smirked. "He was always complaining about how I'd do nothing but get in the way. I suspect he still feels the same."

Slippy drew his grandson in for a hug, and when they separated, he pulled out a datadisk from the inside of his coat. "Here. Look over this for me."

"What is it?"

"Thoughts. Musings. Ideas I never got around to finishing up, and which I'll probably never finish, the way things are going." Slippy said cryptically. "I'm sure you can make more sense out of it than I can."

"Says the guy who's forgotten more about engineering than I'll ever know." Wyatt snorted, tucking the datadisk away. "I'll look over it. If I have any questions, I'll send them out on the next planet-to-planet laserburst transmission."

"I'll look forward to it." Slippy winked at his grandson and hobbled on towards the plane. Wyatt waved goodbye until he was aboard, then returned to the jeep and drove away from the transport as it started its engines.

The jeep's radio kicked on when he was off of the runway, with Ulie Darkpaw on the other end. _"Hey chief, you there?"_

Wyatt picked up the radio's receiver and clicked the squawk button. "Yeah?"

_"Well, I thought you might wanna know…Starfox is inbound from their FTL jump. They're one plane short."_

"Son of a…was it Dana again?"

_"Uh, nope. It was Milo."_

"Say what?" Wyatt exclaimed. "How in the hell did he…Never mind. Is he okay?"

_"Yeah. From what ROB's told me from his intercepts, our sharpshooter's on Darussia with friendly forces. They'll try and get his ship, or what's left of it, out to us in a day or so."_

Wyatt busted out laughing at the news, and the outburst unsettled his crew chief. _"Uh, Wyatt, you okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just figured out why my granddad was in such a hurry to get off Katina." The amphibian rubbed at his eye with the back of his webbed hand. "He didn't want to do any of the work. Ass."

* * *

_Deckmore AFB_

_Hangar Bay 5_

Just as it had been on the entire flight back home from Darussia, silence reigned on Starfox's encrypted personal radio channel. Terrany knew Rourke was seething. At first, she'd been cowed by his newfound irritation, but now she was more angry than anything else. Their communications with Deckmore's command had been brief and to the point; Milo and the transport had been shot down, he was all right, victory had been achieved on Darussia. From there, it had been nothing but landing directions: They were to set down just outside of Hangar Bay 5, doing a swoop-around pass to decrease their airspeed. Apparently, the 21st Squadron had come in hot after finishing up their own mission, and the sonic boom had rattled the tower's windows a little too hard.

_"Your vector is good, Starfox. Cleared for landing; anywhere in the highlighted partition."_

As dusk was falling on Katina, Terrany could make out the green lightstrips in front of Hangar Bay 5. They flickered in sequence, boxing in the area they were to descend on with maneuvering thrusters.

"Cut thrust to ten percent power and engage the repulsors." Rourke said curtly over their radio.

"Roger." Dana complied, her dialogue at a bare minimum. Simmering, Terrany copied the landing procedure, but said nothing. Her position, sitting off of Rourke's wing, maintained, and that was answer enough for him.

The three Arwings glided in and settled into place perfectly, side by side. Before they'd even killed their engines, a flood of technicians and engineers were rushing out of the hangar to meet them. Among them, Terrany saw, was a familiar black bear that came straight for her.

She popped the canopy, and Ulie clambered up the ship to stand beside her. "Welcome back, McCloud." He greeted her. "How did the Modular Weapons Bay work for you?"

"It worked great." Terrany answered, less than enthused in her response. "Any chance you could put both bombs and Godsight Pods in these things?"

"Sadly, no. It's all or nothing." Ulie pulled out his minicomputer from the front pocket of his work coveralls and plugged a jack into her Seraph's access panel. "All righty, download's going. It won't be ready for your briefing, though."

"When's that happening?" Terrany asked.

Rourke suddenly appeared on the ground behind Ulie, his eyes storming. "Half an hour. A word, McCloud."

"Oh, _now_ he wants to talk." Terrany pulled her helmet off and stood up, swishing her tail angrily. "Kit, you need anything, just call me."

_"Will do."_ Her AI mumbled. Terrany pushed out of the cockpit and dropped to the ground below. She landed hard in front of Rourke and dropped to a knee to cushion the impact, then rose and stared back at the bristling wolf.

"Well? What crawled up your ass and died?"

His arm snapped out and grabbed her wrist like lightning, and he jerked her away.

"Not here." He said through clenched teeth. Terrany wrenched her hand back, but followed him as they walked out of the gaze of Dana and the ground crews. No sooner had they turned the corner around their hangar than Rourke whirled about, grabbed Terrany by the shoulders, and threw her back against the metal sheeting of the building.

"Just what the hell were you thinking, disobeying my order?!"

"I was thinking of saving your neck, you idiot!" Terrany winced. There would be a bruise on her back tomorrow because of him.

"That was not your call to make, Terrany. I told you to stay with the Landmaster, and by thunder, that was what you were supposed to do. You don't get to risk your neck and put the mission in jeopardy to play hero!"

"Oh, but you can, is that it?" Terrany stabbed a finger into his chest, eager to give back some pain after his first strike. "You can freefall in an unpressurized vehicle and nearly kill yourself, but I can't keep you from being shot out of the sky?!"

"That tank had to be saved. I'm the goddamn flight lead, and it was my call, my risk to take." He reasoned hotly.

"Like hell it was!"

"It's what your brother would have done!" Rourke screamed, his ears pointing forward.

"You are _not_ my brother!" Terrany shouted back at him. Fuming, they stared, each waiting for the other to flinch.

And that was the problem, Rourke realized. Ever since she had first been brought aboard, their relationship, confused as it was, had always been an unending battle. They fought in the air. They sparred on the ground. Even when they were doing nothing but speaking, that rivalry overwhelmed everything. Even the sexual tension between them.

It was a fight that could be endless if they let it, and tired as he was, Rourke was willing to call a cease-fire. He wanted one.

"You're right, I'm not." The wolf took two steps back, ending the thread of his presence in her personal space. "Skip would have seen that ambush coming." His voice returned to its normal volume, and Terrany reciprocated the move of détente.

"You don't know that. You're just blaming yourself now."

"Maybe." Rourke shrugged. "All I know is, we almost lost Milo today, and it happened on my watch. We could have lost you, too."

"You wish." Terrany grinned, slapping him in the arm. "No way in Hell I'm going to lose to a bunch of Primal punks."

"Why?" Rourke demanded. "Why won't you lose?"

"Because I'm the best." Terrany stated, believing it.

Something cold lingered in Rourke's expression, and he turned away. "Briefing in half an hour. Don't be late."

"What? Hey, wait a second!" Terrany grabbed onto the sleeve of his flight suit. "Why the cold shoulder suddenly? One minute you want to tear my head off, now you want to sulk? What's your problem?"

"You're my problem, Terrany." Rourke O'Donnell hollowly answered. He looked at her and pulled his sleeve away. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come on to you. That's my fault. I've got no desire to help you keep the McCloud curse alive."

"Excuse me?" Her ears flattened back against the sides of her head, out of surprise that he suddenly wanted to break up, and more that he suddenly pulled that skeleton out of her closet. "Just what the Hell do you mean by that, Rourke?"

"There's one lesson you haven't learned yet, Terrany, and until you do, you're a danger to yourself and everyone around you." He stabbed a claw at her face, and this time, his anger was forged of something stronger than personal offense. "There is _always_ someone better than you."

Leaving her confused and hurt, Rourke stormed off for the _Wild Fox_.

Terrany didn't move for another three minutes.

* * *

Rourke knew he didn't have much time before their mission debriefing, so he was left with the choice of grabbing something to eat in the _Wild Fox's_ cafeteria or stopping over to his room. Still frustrated with Terrany, he settled for a rendezvous with his quarters.

The dim lights kicked on as he stepped inside the sliding door, and his garments were quickly removed and thrown into a heap on his bed. From there, he stormed into his bathroom and turned on the shower, not even waiting for the water to warm up before he stepped into the spray. Icy needles tore at his fur and scrubbed his exhaustion into a dull roar. It sucked the bloodrage from his throat and left him feeling hollow.

He should have seen the signs. He should have realized what Terrany was turning into. What he was turning her into. She had all of her brother's natural talent, even more, but the steadfast caution and level-headedness Skip had always relied on was conspicuously absent. One mission after another, they'd pushed the envelope, taken it to the edge. They'd survived, and Terrany had lived up to her nickname.

Instead of stopping it, instead of tempering her fire, Rourke had let it develop. Now, she was disobeying orders.

"You idiot." He exhaled, not knowing whether he meant to direct it at Terrany or himself. He slumped forward, letting his forehead come to rest against the wall. She was so confident, so sure of herself. Most pilots gained a little bit of an ego about their flying; without it, they quickly lost their edge. Terrany believed her skill was so great, she'd taken on an entire enemy squadron above Tanager City against orders. She had won, but the precedent terrified him. She was going to die if she kept it up. It wasn't a prediction. He knew in his gut that it would happen.

If only he'd seen it earlier, he might not have kissed her. He might not have ignored his own warning alarms. He wouldn't have fallen for her.

And so, what was his response? After realizing that she would continue to take the same risks, that she would balk at his commands and fly how she wanted? He dumped her. Not even dating, only a kiss and days of sexual frustration between them, he dumped her. And suddenly, everything was so goddamned complicated. Rourke lifted his forehead and slammed it on the shower wall twice in a row.

"You idiot." Rourke whispered.

* * *

_Darussian Orbit_

_SDF Flagship Vigilant_

Raptor Squadron had been taken into custody as soon as they had landed back on their mothership. MPs had, none too gently, dragged them to the brig and thrown the four Arwing pilots into individual cells.

During interrogation, each member of the flight had been grilled at length about their actions, their crimes, and what their punishments would be. The threatened charges ranged from disobeying orders to abandoning their post in a time of war, crimes that assured either lengthy jail sentences or a quick execution. Through it all, each of the Raptors had held firm to the line that Starfox had fed them: They were following orders. And it was hard, but they didn't break that code of silence.

_**We were following orders.**_

Even cloistered, they had some indication it was working. Their interrogator became more erratic, more demanding. Admiral Markinson himself visited Captain Korman on the third session, and it gave the Venomian lizard strength. Nobody was breaking. His team was still flying in formation.

The speed of wartime justice, Captain Korman told himself. He sat on the bunk of his cell's bed with his back against the wall and his flight jacket pulled tight around him. The brig was cold, a full twenty-five degrees Celsius. It made sense for most of the warm-blooded, fur-covered crew, but to Korman, he considered it cruel and unusual punishment. Well, they could try whatever they wanted to, he wasn't going to give them any satisfaction.

Korman heard footsteps outside his cell door. It swung open, and light from outside forced him to cover his eyes.

"Let's go, captain." The dog on guard duty said gruffly.

"Time for another interrogation?" Korman asked. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could see his keeper slowly shake his head left and right.

"Not this time. The Admiral has called a captain's mast." Korman's heart sank at the news. A captain's mast, or in this case, an admiral's mast, was an older tradition going back to the days of the Cornerian navy. Markinson was foregoing full court martial procedures to opt for his own disciplinary action. Usually, a mast was only done for small offenses. This time, Markinson must have wanted to make an example of them. As he was escorted out of the detention area, he and his MP were joined by his three wingmen and their own escorts. Daric Gavalan clicked his beak nervously.

"What do we do, captain?"

"You shut up, Gav." Gunther, Raptor 2 said lowly.

"Whatever happens, you all hold your heads high." Viper told his men. "We were following orders, and that's it." Getting the hint, Raptor Squadron went quiet and shuffled on.

They were brought up to the launch deck of the ship, and were not surprised in the least to see most of the crew waiting for them. Most notably, the _Vigilant's_ senior staff and all the pilots, both Arwing and Arbiter, watched with obvious concern.

The MPs escorted them to the middle of the crew, where Admiral Markinson and Captain Gireau, his right-hand man, waited in stony silence. In spite of the situation, Captain Korman came to attention and snapped a sharp salute. "Raptor Squadron reporting as ordered, Admiral."

Admiral Markinson did not return the gesture, settling on a scowl. "As there's still work to do in resecuring Darussia and replenishing the fleet, I'll keep this brief. Captain Victor Korman, callsign Viper, you and the rest of the 17th Raptor Squadron are charged with abandoning your post in a time of war, disobeying direct orders, and generally pissing me off. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"We were following orders, admiral." Viper replied stiffly.

"The way you and your team went on, a person would swear you were a broken record." The panda snapped. "I'm well aware that you Arwing pilots think you're the Creator's gift to the universe, but the one thing I will never tolerate from _anyone_ in my command is rank insubordination. So tell me, captain, why did you not see fit to inform the rest of us about your new marching orders?"

Korman tensed up even more, managing to disguise the surprise he felt as a wince. Markinson's question indicated that he now credited their actions with some small measure of validity. Had that lead Starfox pilot come through for them after all?

"At the time, admiral, optical communications had not been established, and there has been plenty of evidence to confirm that the Primals are able to decrypt even supposedly secure radio transmissions."

"You're lying, captain. We know from you communication diagnostics that you had optical interlink shortly after Starfox arrived."

"But we did not have the same interlink with the rest of the fleet, and that was why we did not respond to hails." Viper coolly amended.

Markinson stared hard at him for several seconds, but Viper didn't flinch. Finally, Markinson dug into his pocket and unfolded a printed communique.

"Luckily for you, Viper, you and your men are apparently telling the truth. I just received this message from Admiral Winthrop Kagan as the CSC an hour and a half ago. Would you care to explain to everyone here what that message was about?"

Markinson was baiting him, but Captain Korman refused to bite. "As the message was sent to you, admiral, it is your privilege to read it."

Clearly unhappy, Markinson raised his voice. "I have just been given a new directive by Cornerian Space Command. It says, in effect, that upon arrival in any engagement, the Starfox Team and all associated assets now have the authority to commandeer any military units and personnel they deem necessary for the completion of their missions. This includes, but is not limited to, other Arwings serving in the SDF." Markinson shoved the message into Korman's chest with angry forcefulness. "This directive is henceforth to be known as _The Starfox Protocol_." The panda bore his black eyes at the Venomian lizard and lowered his voice. "You've got some friends in high places." He growled.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sir." Captain Korman offered innocently. Markinson waited two heartbeats, then pulled back.

"In recognition of the effect that Raptor Squadron's presence had during the ground assault, and in light of new evidence, the charges of abandoning their posts and disobeying a direct order are hereby withdrawn. On the charge of insubordination, Raptor Squadron is sentenced to time served and half-rations for one week." The panda paused, daring Viper to argue. "Do you have anything further to add?"

"No, sir!" Raptor 1 replied loudly.

"Then you may return to your posts. We've still got a war on."

"Yes, sir!" Each Raptor pilot shouted in unison.

"Dis-missed!" Markinson bellowed, and the crew scattered quickly.

Amazed at their good fortune, the 17th Unit scurried off as well, and nobody dared to speak until the agitated admiral was well out of earshot.

"Starfox really came through for us." Raptor 2 breathed.

"They should have." Korman answered. "We came through for them."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_"So, if our latest reports are correct, the _Wild Fox_ will be ready to rejoin the fight sometime tomorrow."_ The tinny voice of Executive Crew Chief Ulie Darkpaw carried over the intercom. _"I'll spare you the boring details. Suffice it to say, having Slippy and his emergency Arspace techs on site really helped us kick some ass."_

General Grey smiled. "I'm putting in a personal supply request to requisitions in an hour. You tell Wyatt and your boys if there's anything they want, outside of prostitutes, I'll do my damndest to get it on board. You've all earned it."

_"Fucking right we have." _Ulie grunted. _"I'll pass the word on. Barbecue will probably be high on the list. Maintenance out."_

A moment after Engineering had discommed, General Grey's vox went off again. He sighed and punched the connect button. "Yes?"

_"ROB here, General Grey. You wished for a reminder about the mission debriefing."_

"So I did." General Grey discommed again and rubbed at his eyes. The robot that had come with the ship was still unsettling to some of the Ursa Station crew, just because of how hardwired he was to the ship's systems, but the old warhound found that he was becoming accustomed to the mechanoid's presence. Perhaps even reliant on it.

He walked out of his office and stepped onto the bridge of the _Wild Fox_. Atmospheric controls were running at full power again, and a soothing breeze of conditioned air wafted down through the ceiling vents. XO Dander was sitting in the command chair and started to rise, but Grey waved him off. "I'll be in the conference room. You have the bridge."

"Of a grounded ship." Dander uncharacteristically complained. "Executive Officer has the conn, aye."

Not long after, Grey reached the conference room set aside for mission briefings. To his surprise, everyone was there and waiting. Usually, a few of the Arwing pilots in his command would stumble in late. Pugs had brought up a platter of toast points. They were untouched.

Grey glanced to the seat that Milo usually occupied. His absence had a keen effect on everybody else, as the other six pilots were remarkably grimfaced.

"I'm sure you're all tired, so I won't waste time on the pleasantries." Grey sat down and looked to Captain Hound and the 21st Squadron. "All right, Lars, we're downloading your flight data now. Anything important to add?"

"It was quiet out there. We only had one Primal run-in, and that was in Point Echo. The ship was badly damaged. It didn't stand a chance against us, and it didn't get off any warning messages to its friends, either." Damer and Wallaby looked at each other, but let their flight lead do the talking. "We continued on and finished our assignment. The SDF should have the full satellite relay network back up and online…and since you all toasted the secondary control center on Venom, the Primals should be blind to it."

"Creator willing." Grey grumblingly acknowledged. He turned to Rourke. "Lieutenant, mind telling me why one of your pilots was shot down, and why my multi-billion credit supertank isn't back here with you?"

"War's hell, general." Rourke responded coolly. "You know that."

"Don't I, though." The old dog stared past his nose, scrutinizing the unusually inscrutable canid. "Fine. I'll get the picture from your black boxes anyhow. A transport is off to pick up Sergeant Granger, but I wouldn't expect to see him back here until tomorrow. One more thing. That request, lieutenant? It went through. Just got confirmation from the CSC. Ordinarily, I'd say you were stupid for wrapping the 17th Squadron up in your mess, but considering the debacle you all flew into, it was probably a smart idea." He plopped down a printout in the center of the table. "General Kagan has given the Starfox Team, and more specifically, _me_, with the power to commandeer any and all flight assets that we deem necessary for the completion of our missions. Which means that your fellow flyboys won't get into trouble with their CO the next time they have to save your ass. They're calling it the **Starfox Protocol.**"

"That could come in handy." Captain Hound mused. He looked to General Grey suspiciously. "I take it my men and I were the first unofficial power grab under this policy?"

"Hell no." Grey snapped back. "I just wanted somebody in my command who could actually take orders." Rourke let the cutting remark pass him by without so much as a flinch, which further raised the curiosity of the general. "Anyhow. That's the story for now, kids. Darussia is ours again, the spy satellite network is back up and running. When I know more, I'll tell you more. For now, go sack out. When the _Wild Fox_ takes off of this rock, I want all of you at full strength. Dismissed."

The pilots stood, with Captain Hound and his men saluting before turning to leave. Wallaby Preen couldn't help himself, and whispered to Damer, "Trouble in paradise with them?"

The squirrel responded by grabbing Wallaby's ear and dragging him out of the room. "Shut up, rookie."

Shaking their heads, Rourke, Dana, and Terrany followed after them. General Grey raised a hand and cleared his throat. "Lieutenant, a word alone?" Rourke tensed up and went still, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as Terrany looked back over her shoulder and looked at him. He didn't want to see the look in her eyes, not after what he'd said. She finally left after Dana prodded her, leaving the wolf alone with the old warhound.

General Grey reached into his tobacco pouch and pinched off a small amount, packing it into the bowl of his corncob pipe. Rourke turned around and stood uneasily, waiting for him to speak. "You and the girls were quiet in this meeting. I can't stop you from interrupting me usually. What's going on?"

"It's an internal problem, general." Rourke stiffly replied. "I'm handling it."

"Does this have something to do with Milo getting shot down?" Grey struck a match and lowered the burning ember to his pipe, slowly lighting it up. "Because if that's the case, then it's not an internal problem."

"You put me in charge of this team, general." Rourke countered hotly. "Let me deal with it."

"I put Captain McCloud in charge of this "team" back when it was still an experimental project, lieutenant. He was the one who made you his second in command, not me."

"I guess he was a good judge of character, then." Rourke couldn't help the inevitable dig.

"Perhaps." Grey took a long draw of smoke into his lungs and leveled a stare at the wolf. "Whatever's going on, Rourke, get your house in order. Starfox is too important to get wrecked because your squad's getting into some kind of stupid pissing match."

"I'll keep that in mind." Rourke said, managing to not roll his eyes. "Anything else, Arnold?"

"Yeah. A salute next time wouldn't hurt you any." Grey said offhandedly, staring up at the ceiling. "Remember, your rank was honorary, not earned. It can be removed if you don't get that chip off your shoulder."

Fuming, Rourke stormed out of the conference room. General Grey remained seated, enjoying his smoke in a moment of relative peace and tranquility. He kept his own counsel.

* * *

"What in blazes was that back there?" Dana demanded, once she and Terrany were on their own.

"What was what now?" Terrany said, distracted. The tigress kept pace with her easily, not about to let it go.

"Just what is with you and Rourke? You're angrier at each other than when you first found out he was an O'Donnell!"

"He's the one with the problem, not me." Terrany stepped off of the turbolift and into the corridor with the exercise equipment. "He said I was disobeying orders, and he's fuming about it."

"Well, you did…"

"To save his life!" Terrany hissed, the first hint of rage leaking out of a crack in her façade. "Why doesn't he get that? I don't risk my life because I've got a death wish, I do it because I couldn't lose him!"

Dana stared at the younger woman. "Oh, Creator no." She uttered. "You're really in love with him, aren't you?"

"Yes." Terrany said without thinking, then withdrew. "No. Maybe. Hell, I don't know any more. When he was in that tank, falling to his death, I just…"

"You kind of went ballistic." Dana pointed out.

Terrany flinched under the accusation. "I couldn't lose him. I had to save him. And then when we touched down, and he came to, I…" She could have sworn that her blush was visible, "…I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I don't know."

The test pilot shook her head sadly. "I thought I told you to be careful."

"You told me he was a mistake. Too much baggage." Terrany sniffled. She was tired, she was worn out, and she had nothing left after a full day of running hard. "And before the meeting, when we were out on the tarmac, he said that I was a mistake."

"He said that?" Dana was stunned at the cruelty of those words.

Numbly, Terrany nodded. "I don't know what to do anymore. What do I do now, Dana?"

Her protective instincts kicked in, and Dana pulled Terrany into a hug. "You sleep. You give your body a chance to recover, because right now, it needs it. We're all tired, we're all hungry. Get to your room, sack out. I'll bring you a few sandwiches later, okay?"

"What about Rourke?" Terrany tearfully asked, her voice muffled by Dana's shoulder.

Dana Tiger smoothed out Terrany's headfur and felt her own temper growing to a full boil. "It wouldn't be the first time I've kicked his ass."

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_Worldbreaker Excavation Site_

Captain Telemos should have been taking his men on sortie, putting their Phoenix spacefighters through their paces even more. However, the news of the Primal defeat on Darussia hung heavily on everybody's hearts, and neither he nor his men were particularly interested in getting airborne just to run exercises. To defeat Starfox would have been another matter, but it was doubtful they would be lucky enough to get a location fix on The Pale Demon and her wingmen before they escaped.

So instead, the disgraced Primal pilot let his anger simmer at a low boil, and stilled atop a cliff overlooking a site crawling with Primals and their reformed Lylatian kinsmen. They had called themselves Simians, among other names, but there was no denying their common ancestry. That alone had spared them the wrath of The Lord of Flames. Of course, his erstwhile cousins would have to do a great deal to prove themselves yet. Kin they might be by blood and ancestry, but they were not Primals. Not yet.

Staring down into the pit that contained the ancient ship of his ancestors, Telemos could not help but feel humbled by the size of it. It was enormous, and would eclipse even that damnable mothership Starfox flew when it was fully removed from its rocky tomb and power was restored to it. It would not be much longer, by the looks of it. Weeks, days. No longer was it a matter of months.

They called it the Worldbreaker in the ancient texts: A ship of such power it could destroy a world, making it uninhabitable. If only they had had it at the start of the war, they could have crushed Corneria in one decisive blow, instead of this prolonged conflict that was steadily causing the Armada to lose both ships and warriors at an alarming pace. In spite of that wishful thinking, though, Telemos could not admit to himself that it would have also put an end to Terrany McCloud. Regardless of the Worldbreaker's enormous power, something that the Tribunes were betting a large portion of their long-term strategy on, Telemos felt in his bones that she would destroy it, if given even the smallest opportunity.

The noise of a hoversled racing towards him made Telemos come back to himself and glance over his shoulder. It was his wingman, Saber. Lashal Orrek when not in the cockpit. Phoenix 2. The Primal was his younger by only five years, and his most trusted friend.

The hoversled set down, and Lashal killed the engine. He hopped out of the driver's seat and walked over to Telemos, nodding. "We were wondering where you went off to. It seems that Vodari won the bet."

"What bet?"

"Nomen wagered a six-pack that you were enjoying the company of the concubines. Vodari said you were out here. Strange that Flint should be the one to guess your motivations."

"Hm. Idle chatter and wagers, nothing more, Lashal." Telemos told his friend. He turned and stared down the hundreds of feet to the enormous saucer-shaped ship below and shook his head. "It is powerful, but it will not be enough. Has there been word from the Tribunes, or Grandflight Gatlus?"

"Nothing. The passing of Meteor Squadron is a great loss to us all. I know you and Meteor 1 were bitter rivals, but even you must admit that, captain."

"Their sacrifice was not without some small gain. They did shoot down the Marksman. Of course, the pilot likely survives. Those damnable Arwings have proven themselves to be very resilient airframes." Telemos blinked his brown eyes once. "She was holding back, and Simios still lost. A loss? She did him a favor, ending his incompetence."

The remark was cruel to a Primal pilot who'd been dead less than a day, and Lashal couldn't help but cringe. "Captain?"

"What is it, old friend?"

"I…would like to speak freely."

"When have I ever denied you, or any of my men, that privilege?" Telemos said with a halfhearted laugh.

Lashal walked to stand beside him, and instead of looking down at the Worldbreaker, he stared to his squadron commander. "Telemos, I am worried about you."

Telemos looked back. "Why? We are in the best shape of our lives. We are flying the most advanced fighter the Primals have ever had. You have nothing to worry about."

Saber gave his head a shake. "It is not the fighter, or our training that worries me. It is your mind. This obsession you have."

"An obsession?" Telemos scoffed. "The Pale Demon is our most hated enemy. She defeated Hydrian Squadron by _herself_. She defeated that fool Simios. She defeated us! She has killed us by the score, and walked away with impunity. She is a _woman_. Terrany McCloud flies in the face of everything we hold dear. Of course I'm obsessed. She must die, Lashal."

"You are usually more detached than this." Telemos's wingman pointed out.

"And how can you be? Have you forgotten what happened to Tinder 5? To Flash?" Telemos accused him. "Because of her, we are only four instead of five! He did not walk away from that crash!"

"I'm beginning to think he wasn't the only one!" Lashal fired back hotly. "Listen to yourself! You were forever the voice of reason in our squadron! The one who told us _not _to take risks, the sane pilot who weighed victory against the cost! You taught us that to fight was to risk everything, and to fight well was to stay in control of ourselves and the dogfight!" He jabbed a finger into his superior's chest. "But now, you utter such ridiculous things I wonder if you're even the same man anymore. She is _yours_ to defeat? Only _you_ can stop her? That flies in the face of everything you are!" Gritting his teeth, Lashal stepped back. "Or were."

Telemos stared blankly at Lashal for several moments. Phoenix 2 stared back, waiting for his response.

"Are you finished?" Telemos finally asked. The flippant question stole Saber's voice from him, and Telemos pressed on. "Only we have flown against Starfox, against the Pale Demon, and survived to tell the tale. Only I understand how she fights. The Tribunes admitted as much when they spared our lives and gave us the Phoenix fighters to avenge our honor. You think it insanity? You did not have your identity, your very station in life torn out from under you. You have no _idea_ what I lost that day. All I have left now is my wrath and my retribution, Lashal. I will not risk your lives needlessly, but at the end of the day, she is mine to destroy. Alone. She defeated me alone. I must do the same, or else the victory is meaningless!"

"Says who? The Tribunes? Grandflight Gatlus?" Lashal pressed.

"ME!" Telemos thundered. Lashal stared at him forlornly, then turned around and walked off without a word. Telemos could tell that something vital in their friendship had broken just then, but he was too angry, too lost to say anything. He turned his back on the retreating Phoenix 2, staring down at the weapon of annihilation entombed in the ground.

The hoversled roared to life and faded away.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Rec Room_

As he did when events threw him off balance, Rourke dove headfirst into a self-defense routine and didn't look back. The motions of his exercise prevented him from dwelling on his troubles, replacing them with blazing concentration, sweat, and the solace of unconscious action.

It had been like that for years. Rourke slowed up after a handstand and sweep kick to catch his breath. Under his callous grandfather's tutelage, his exercises had been the few moments of tranquility allowed him. Only when he was lost in the dance of combat had they kept silent and left him alone, save for the occasional suggestion on form or posture. Wolf O'Donnell had made him into a hard-hearted and hateful creature. Without Skip, he would have stayed that way.

The doorway hissed open, and Captain Lars Hound stepped inside. He was dressed in workout clothes and carried a duffel bag. The dog took notice of Rourke and nodded respectfully to the panting wolf.

"Couldn't sleep?" Hound asked knowingly. Rourke nodded in confirmation.

"Still too wound up."

"After the ballbreaker of a mission you had today, I don't see how you couldn't be. I'd recommend some green tea and meditation."

Rourke stared at him. "Really?"

Lars smirked. "That's what my bitch of an ex-wife used to prescribe. It didn't calm her nerves enough to keep her from chucking dishware at my head, though. I prefer my own tack." He hoisted his duffel bag and gestured to a pair of boxing gloves dangling off the side.

"Hm." Rourke grunted, looking to a sandbag in the corner of the small gym. "So I see."

"You mind holding the bag for me, lieutenant?" Hound innocently asked.

"Might as well. I could use a breather." Rourke got ready behind the punching bad while Hound put his gloves on. Rourke offered no further commentary while the flight lead of the 21st Squadron started his routine. He noticed that Hound favored his right arm, and was slow to put his guard up.

About the time that Lars started throwing crossover punches, he opened up the dialogue. "So, Star Wolf."

"What about it?" Rourke demanded, holding the bag nearly still while the captain abused it. The image of a defenseless stooge behind held up to be beaten sprang to his mind unconsciously.

"Were you flying with them when Max McCloud got shot down over Venom?"

"I wasn't the one who took the shot." Rourke stared back at Lars. "That _is_ what you were wondering, right?"

"One of the burning questions in my mind." Hound ignored Rourke's angry countenance and hit the bag with a right uppercut hard enough that it made Rourke grunt. "But you can relax, boy. You've proven yourself a capable, trustworthy pilot so far. Whatever you were, it's not who you are now."

Rourke didn't quite know how to respond to the unusual act of praise, and Lars sensed his confusion. He switched to a high-low combination and worked the bag a little faster. "So what happened on Darussia that has your flight so bent out of shape?"

"Are you looking for dirt, or were you trying to offer me advice?"

"Do I look like a lawyer to you?" Hound countered, putting out another high-impact punch. "You don't wanna talk, fine. I just figured I'd offer, seeing as my team's survival depends on you Starfox hotshots getting your act together. And come on. Who in the hell else are you going to rant to? Everyone here is either a subordinate of yours or a superior. I'm the only other flight lead here."

"You're a captain, I'm a lieutenant."

"So I got more brass on my shoulders, big deal. We still fly in the same shit." Hound stepped back and breathed heavily. "Grab a towel out of my bag, would you?"

Rourke did so, and Hound used his teeth to loosen the strings of his gloves. As soon as he got one glove off, he grabbed the towel and used it to mop the sweat away from his fur. "You box?"

"It's not my cup of coffee, no." Rourke admitted. "I'm more of a close combat specialist."

"Yeah, I overheard that you liked to start days with your team with a little martial arts."

"It was actually Captain McCloud's policy." Rourke folded his arms. "I'm just keeping the tradition going."

Hound dug out a water bottle and took a swig, then chucked it at Rourke. "I see. What do you do?"

"Pardon?" Rourke allowed himself a small drink.

"What do you do to make this team your own? Outside of nearly killing yourself jumping out of your plane at high altitude to try and land a falling tank? That took guts, but it was stupid. If it hadn't been for an equally stupid stunt by McCloud, you'd be street paste."

"I'm the flight lead. If anybody gets to make those risky moves, it falls on me. Not them." Rourke said firmly. "Skip was the first casualty of this invasion. He made the choice to stay and fight, even when they got the drop on him. He could have pulled a full retreat or a blind FTL jump, but he didn't. He stayed, he took out that Primal scout ship, and he got iced for it."

"So you're just following his example then? In everything?" Hound proposed.

"He was a good flight lead. A good leader."

"Yeah, he was." Hound nodded. "I knew him in the service. We all did. Carl McCloud had a level head on him. He wasn't much for instinct, but when it came to the thinking side of piloting, he could put us all to shame. But there's something you don't know, sport."

"What's that?" Rourke rolled his eyes, tiring of the conversation.

"He flew with me first." Captain Hound deadpanned.

That caught Rourke's attention. He blinked in confusion. "Bullshit."

"I'm not bullshitting you." Hound shook his head. "He was assigned to Growler Squadron when he first graduated from the Academy. When I got him, he was as green around the gills as Wallaby. There wasn't much I could teach him about flying, but leadership was another matter. Eventually, he got it through that head of his that he needed to pick and choose what worked for him from what worked for me. When he was reassigned out of the 21st, Skip had to start fresh as a flight lead, and it was up to him to establish his own style of leadership. He couldn't use my way, because it wouldn't be natural."

Hound threw his towel over his bag. "Look at it like this. Mulholland? Viper Korman? They're as different as night and day, but it works for them. Viper's always been a hit and run artist. If he doesn't have the advantage in a fight, he'll jockey for position or bug out. He's a precision artist, and he demands a lot from the 17th Squadron. They come through, but that's a lot of pressure. Then you got Typhoon Squadron, the 5th? Well, you probably were too young, but Petey Mulholland flew in the skies over Venom, just like Max McCloud. He's more laid back, but a stickler for regulations. Then you have me, and I'm somewhere in between: I train my men hard, but I let them grow into their own."

Captain Hound put a hand on Rourke's shoulder. "What worked for Skip may not always work for you. I'm not going to tell you how to fly, or how to lead. But I am going to tell you that you can't spend your time hiding in the shadow of Carl McCloud, and just going through the motions. All that does is waste your potential, and make your team weaker than it can be."

Numbly, Rourke nodded. "I'll give it some thought."

Satisfied, Lars Hound packed up his gear. "I feel better now. Think I'll hit the sack. You coming, Star Wolf?"

"Nah, I'm still awake. Might go for a walk."

"You should hit up the arboretum. It's pretty peaceful at night." Hound suggested. "Night." He waved one last time, and slipped back out into the corridors of the ship. Alone with his haunting thoughts and the low vibration from the power conduits of the ship, Rourke found himself haunted by the memory of his grandfather, and the memory of Skip.

Even in his mind, O'Donnells and McClouds fought for dominance.

* * *

_Medical Bay_

Nurse Ermsdale found Dr. Bushtail hunched over in his office when she came in an hour early; nine instead of ten. The simian looked haunted.

"Doctor?" She called out to him softly. He blinked and looked up at her, registering her presence before nodding.

"Is it ten?"

"No, I got here early. What's wrong?"

"I finished the tests." He turned his computer screen around and showed her the results. Skilled in her own right, Lydia Ermsdale glanced at the marker comparisons and breathed out softly.

"Damn."

"In a word, yes." The simian sounded tired. He'd been up the entire day working after processing the bone marrow sample he'd taken. The results were clear. "But do I tell her now or wait until morning?"

"I'd think as soon as possible." Nurse Ermsdale answered. "This is something she needs to know. It can only help her."

"All right. Go see if you can find her, then. Bring her back here."

"Will you be all right?"

"I'm not dead." Dr. Bushtail said softly. "That's more than I can say for my relatives on Venom."

* * *

_Bridge_

_Night Shift_

Executive Officer Tom Dander glanced over to ROB. The ship-wired robot hadn't moved from his perch along the upper tier of consoles, and he hadn't had anything to say recently either. Still, he'd been busy: checking and rechecking the ship's power conduits and terminals for errors was a tedious process, and he made it very easy for the technicians to stay zeroed in on the problem areas. They hadn't wasted any time testing the good stretches put in by other crew shifts.

Dander started to look away when he saw ROB start to turn his head around.

"We are receiving a secure transmission from the base control tower. Source origin is verified as Lunar Base, Cornerian orbit."

"Looks like Kagan's boys are sending a followup message." Dander stretched his arms out. "Decode it and send a copy to my panel, as well as General Grey's inbox."

"Decoding…" ROB intoned. A few moments later, he transmitted the message as ordered, and the command chair's panel beeped confirmation.

Dander opened it up and began to read at a leisurely pace. That lasted all of ten seconds before he leaned forward in his chair and swore. "Verify the source again."

"Transmit code verified as General Kagan's personal code. Message is genuine."

"Shit. Where's General Grey now?"

"In his quarters. Intercom monitoring suggests he is sleeping."

Ordinarily, Dander would have objected to the blatant violation of privacy posed by using the intercoms to spy on people, but he had bigger fish to fry. "Wake him up, tell him I'm coming down to see him."

"Officer Dander, you are currently in command of the ship. You cannot leave your post without assigning new command." ROB reminded him.

"Then you take over while I'm gone, ROB. Hell, you run most of the ship anyways!"

The rest of the night shift on the bridge glanced at each other as Dander flew into the elevator. ROB offered the slightest shake of his metal head and woke up General Grey, who was displeased at the interruption. After informing him XO Dander was on the way, ROB turned and looked at everyone else. "For the time being, I am assuming command of this vessel."

Corporal Fress, the red squirrel who ran the pilot and navigation console on the night shift, chuckled. "You can't be in command unless you're sitting in the command chair."

"I am capable of performing my duties anywhere on this ship. Sitting is an irrelevant, superfluous action." ROB reminded them, almost indignantly.

"I'm just saying. You want me to take orders, you need to be in the big chair." The squirrel stubbornly refuted him.

ROB considered it, and ventured over from his duty station. He sat down and Corporal Fress chuckled at him. "Any orders, Commander ROB?"

"Just one, corporal." The robot retorted. "Go fragment yourself."

* * *

_Arboretum_

Though most of the engineering work had been solely utilitarian, the one major aesthetic change was the massive skylight above the ship's garden complex. Heavily reinforced transparisteel covered the gardens in a protective dome. Geodesic braces held rows of full spectrum lightstrips, which could simulate the light of a sunny Cornerian day even in the depths of space. They were off now, of course. Even plants needed a rest cycle.

One organism in the enclosed biosphere wasn't sleeping. She desperately wanted to, but too much had happened. Her world was falling apart around her, and nobody, not even KIT, could hope to understand. Terrany lay curled up under the shade of a tree, her head less than a meter from her grandmother's headstone.

"Did granddad ever make you feel this awful?" She whispered to the grave. There was no answer, and Terrany couldn't even imagine one. She had only vague memories of Krystal McCloud, and certainly couldn't recall a time they ever had a real conversation. Too many years had gone by.

The stillness of the gardens shrank away from her, and without looking, Terrany knew that it was Rourke drawing near.

"I thought you said we were done, Rourke."

The barely audible footsteps slowed, and Terrany turned herself around to look at him. Rourke was watching her with surprise. "How did you…never mind." He glanced around. "Is there enough room under that tree for one more?"

"That depends on why you're here."

"To talk. To explain." He said, sitting down beside her. "To mend fences."

She stared impassively at him. "You called me a mistake."

"Kissing you was my mistake." He answered, rubbing at one of his gray ears. "But _you_ are a miracle."

"I don't understand."

"I'm your flight commander, Terrany." Rourke irritably pointed out. "You're my subordinate. We shouldn't have…I shouldn't have…we can't get romantically involved."

"Why not?" Terrany demanded. "Officially, I'm not in the armed forces. That stupid fraternization rule shouldn't even apply. Or is it that I'm a McCloud and you're an O'Donnell?"

"No, that's not the problem." He hastily said.

"Then what the hell is?!" She shouted. "And don't feed me that line about how you can take risks, but I can't. Every damn time I go up in the air, I know the danger. I know about the family curse, and I'm sick of it!"

Rourke nodded. His talk with Captain Hound had done more good than the old dog knew, because it had shocked him back to his center.

"It's not because of our families." Rourke repeated. He took off his leather jacket and gave it to Terrany to use as a blanket. "The only thing that makes me an O'Donnell is my genetics and the fact I used to fly a Wolfen. It's your brother, Terrany. He made me promise I would look after you if he was…you know. I've been forced into his shoes ever since, and I've struggled with it. If anything happened to you, I could never forgive myself. I've screwed up everything else in my life. I can't afford to screw that up. Not you, Teri. Not that promise."

She leaned over, staring at him. "Did you once bother to think that maybe I couldn't lose you, either?"

Rourke looked down and away from her. "I'm a mess, Terrany. You shouldn't want to be with me."

Her hand snaked up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to turn around and look at her. "You're forgetting how much of a wreck my life was. You didn't care then. You grumbled, you growled, and you forced me through it. It never mattered to you how much I'd screwed up. You saw past all that. When everyone else wanted me to roll over and quit, you told me to stay. So tell me, Rourke, who else would I ever want to be with?"

Rourke O'Donnell closed his eyes, feeling his resistance breaking. His carefully crafted argument, that plea for emotional neutrality, was being blown to bits by the amazing woman cupping his chin. Some pulse, stronger than anything he'd ever felt before took hold of him. She wanted him. She needed him. And he wanted her so very badly.

"I…I can't…"

Her other hand went to his chest, feeling for his heart. "My father left me." She trembled. The quaver in her voice tore at his spirit. "My brother left me. Will you leave me, too?"

His eyes opened, and Rourke looked at her tear-streaked face. He had done this to her. He had made her this way. The promise he'd made to Skip a reality ago collapsed.

_How are you protecting her if you make her feel miserable?_

Praying for forgiveness from the Creator, he used the blade of a claw to gently stroke her tears away, sliding it down the side of her cheek. Her snout parted, and her tongue slid out a fraction of a centimeter.

Rourke leaned in and kissed her, and made a silent vow to never make her cry again. All that solemn thought seemed to do was make her cry even more as they cast off their doubts, kissing one another with abandon.

His jacket was thrown to the side as he nuzzled her soft neck, nipping at it with his teeth. Terrany shivered in the moonlight, throwing her head back and pulling him tighter against her. "Yes. Yes. Ohh…" They fell to the ground, and the grass flattened under Terrany's back. All of his warm, bristling heat pressed her down, and her head swam. His hands, hungry for her body, rose up from her waist and tangled in her headfur, rolling Terrany's ears between his fingers. She could feel his need pouring off every inch of him, and Terrany drowned in his musk.

Just when his hand snaked under the hem of her shirt, when she arched her back and silently screamed in approval of the brazen act, his torturing fingers retreated. His weight eased off, then vanished entirely as he fell to the side, gasping for air and sanity. Terrany opened her eyes, confused.

"Why did you stop?"

"Because if I didn't, we would have woken up naked tomorrow morning next to your grandmother's grave." He said hoarsely.

Terrany blushed as his admission made a very pleasurable picture in her mind. "So you do want me?"

"You have no idea." Rourke exhaled, putting his face into his hands. "But not here, not like this."

"Later, then." She smirked. "Your room or mine?"

"Be serious."

"I am being serious." Her hand pressed to his chest again, and her claws dug in. "We both want it. Trust your instincts, Rourke."

He growled low in his throat and pushed her hand away. "Damn, woman. What are you trying to do to me?"

"She's seducing you, Rourke." Dana Tiger said loudly, walking up to them. The two interrupted lovebirds scattered apart, and Dana noticed the bulge straining his jeans. "Doing a fairly good job of it, too. Do I still need to kick his ass, Terrany?"

Sensing the danger, Terrany stood up and smoothed out her white headfur. "No, he apologized. We made up."

Embarrassed, Rourke swept up his leather jacket. "What do you want, Dana?"

"Dr. Bushtail wanted to see Terrany in the Medical Bay. He also wanted you to come along for some reason. Saves me an extra trip, having you both here." The former test pilot examined her nails.

"I see." Rourke folded his arms. "And you won't tell General Grey about this, right?"

The orange and black tigress hesitated. "I'm still not okay with this, but I'll keep quiet. Just put a lid on the public displays. There's already rumors about you two floating around, and if somebody catches you rutting in an elevator, there'll be hell to pay." She jerked her thumb behind her. "Now get going. Don't keep the doc waiting." Chastened, Rourke and Terrany walked for the exit.

"You've broken a lot of promises today, Rourke." Terrany said, the heat of their passionate moment now burning as an ember, but not forgotten. "Try and keep the one you just made to me."

Rourke hit the switch for the elevator and looked at her. "What promise?"

She stared back at him. "You promised you'd never make me cry again."

Rourke widened his eyes, and the elevator doors opened. "Terrany, I never said that out loud."

Three seconds passed in silence before Terrany broke her gaze away. "Damn." She stepped onto the lift. "It's getting worse. Now I'm hearing your thoughts."

Worried, Rourke got on with her. "What's going on?"

Terrany angrily punched the button. "At least now I have an idea why the doc wants to see me."

* * *

_Planet Darussia_

_Tanager City Staging Point Alpha_

Rondo Transports were the most widely used FTL capable equipment carriers in the SDF Fleet and beyond. Produced for twenty years, they'd seen heavy action during the years of resistance to Corneria's expansion, especially during the Battle of Venom and the Papetoon Insurrection. In a last desperate bid, the Insurrectionists had loaded up the ships with high explosives and sent them on ramming courses for capital ships of the fleets. The damage they'd inflicted hadn't been enough to win the war.

In the peacetime that followed the SDF's triumph and the elimination of both the space pirates and fringe elements, many Rondo transports had moved into private hands, including Arspace. Sergeant Milo Granger had reveled in seeing several Project Seraphim Rondos seeing a second life as carriers for their precious Seraph Arwings, able to hold and launch two at a time. Earlier today, it had been a Rondo carrying the Landmaster. Though the ship had been destroyed, the Landmaster had survived long enough to win the day and make it safe for the 7th Fleet to crush the Primal Armada in orbit.

Milo would have loved to fly back to the grounded _Wild Fox_ on Katina under his own power. He would have even accepted seeing his precious baby loaded up in the specially modified launch cradle Project Seraphim had designed for the Rondos. Instead, the saddened ringtailed raccoon could only watch as the crumpled remains of his ship were hoisted up onto a repulsorlift set to roll into the opened rear hatch of a regular Rondo with no special markings. A spacefighter as powerful and expensive as the X-1 Seraph Arwing had been reduced to slag. The engines were shot, the landing struts had been sheared off, the left wing was barely holding on to the remnants of his G-Negator unit, and the right wing was nearly folded on itself after his crash landing in a drainage canal.

After retaining the mindset of a sniper and recon specialist for years, Milo finally understood why pilots took the loss of their planes so hard. Wyatt and his boys would rebuild his plane, but it would forever be scarred. It would never again be _perfect._

The pilot from the Rondo came over to him. "Well, Sergeant, we'll have your plane loaded in another six minutes. Should be able to take off in ten."

"It's not a plane anymore." Milo muttered. "You're just hauling scrap." The pilot laughed and Milo got his first good look at him. He recognized the Venomian lizard. "Hey, you're Corph, right?"

"Got it." The equipment hauler who used to run the route to Ursa Station nodded. "Good to see you too, Milo. We never talked much when you were on Ursa."

"Nah, I was always busy. But now I've got nothing but time on my hands."

"Well, that's good. I've got a thermos of coffee and the drive isn't short. Feel like some company?"

"Not really." Milo admitted, looking at his Seraph one last time before turning away. "But I'll take the coffee."

They climbed into the Rondo through the rear cargo hatch and took their seats up front. As promised, Corph poured out a liberal dose of his heady brew for Milo to enjoy, and started his preflight checklist. "You sure gave the Primals one hell of a pounding today. I'm sorry I wasn't here to see it."

"Be glad you weren't. The guys flying the Rondo our Landmaster was on didn't survive." Milo sipped at the coffee with a test slurp, then downed a thick swallow after determining it was only mildly scalding. "How's the family?"

"Alive." Corph shrugged wearily. "My wife thought I was crazy, moving us to Corneria two years ago. Now that we've got a baby, she cries some nights thinking about what could have been if we still lived on Venom."

"Yeah." Milo stared out the front viewport. "It hurts me. We went to Venom on a raid early on and shut down their satellite monitoring, but we couldn't do dick to push them off that rock. Reinforcements rolled in, and we retreated. Now, we won't be able to get back there for some time. All those people we left behind…probably aren't alive now."

"Yeah." Corph poured himself a cup of java and held it thoughtfully. "Everybody wants Starfox to blow these creeps out of the water, but do yourself a favor and don't run yourself ragged. I work long shifts on these cross-system hauls, and I have to stop to sleep every 12 hours. You're a fighter pilot. You need even more downtime."

"Don't I know it." Milo chuckled. "But I don't think the war will wait around while I powernap. My team needs me, even if I don't have a plane."

"I'm just saying. In the long run, sleep is a good thing." Corph checked his monitor and nodded as a heavy weight jostled the frame of his cargo transport. "The plane's loaded up." He glanced out the side window and saw the thumbs up from the ground crew chief. "Personnel are clear. Time to button 'er up."

"Sleep, huh?" Milo leaned back in his chair and set his empty coffee cup to the side. "May as well get some now. What's your FTL rating on this thing?"

"We'll be home in three hours."

"Wake me in two and a half then." Milo pulled his flight jacket off and used it as a blanket to cover himself. Corph smiled and went through takeoff procedures, and six minutes later they broke atmosphere. A quick computation of the Astrogation computer set his FTL jump, and they vanished into subspace. He glanced over to tell Milo they were on their way, but didn't say anything. Apparently, coffee didn't faze the pilot when he was bone tired.

The raccoon was already out like a light.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Medical Bay_

Terrany stormed into Dr. Bushtail's office with Rourke hot on her heels. The simian didn't even get a chance to greet them before Terrany cut in.

"All right, doc. What the hell's wrong with my brain now? I thought we'd gotten past the Merge Mode problems."

"Good evening to you, too." The doctor rubbed at his eyes. He was as worn out as the pilots, by the looks of him. "Sit down, both of you."

"If this is about Terrany, why am I here?" Rourke asked.

"You're her flight lead, and you'll need to understand what's going on so you can help her." Dr. Bushtail pressed his hands together, adopting an inscrutable expression. "Merge Mode technology is still very new and full of kinks we're still working out. That's why there are so many safety features. But Terrany came to me and described unusual symptoms…symptoms such as hearing KIT's supposedly private thoughts while Merged. Given her high rate of Synch, a rate that usually beats the numbers the rest of you post by ten percentage points, I went looking for a technical cause. Wyatt and his engineering team reprogrammed the subroutines to prevent Automatic Merging in her aircraft, and that solved the prelude migraines. The headaches caused by de-Merging were made negligible with significant training on her part, but that simply resolved a symptom. It didn't address the underlying problem. I couldn't find a technical solution, so I went back and reassessed the evidence. No other Seraph pilot had symptoms like Terrany's…but then, no other Seraph pilot flew with the digitized consciousness of a living being as their Merge pair, either."

"So I was having problems because I Merge with Falco's consciousness?" Terrany's hands tightened in her lap.

"The problem isn't in the programming, or anything on your Arwing, Terrany." Dr. Bushtail explained. "It's you." He tapped the side of his head. "To be more specific, how you're wired."

The doctor set a large display datapad on his desk, facing Terrany and Rourke. He slid a finger across the surface to wake it up. A long list of chromosomes came up on the display, with Terrany's Academy photo next to it. "I ran a comparative analysis to be sure on this. To start with, this is your genetic profile."

He touched a button on his own system's keypad, and her profile shrank to make room for another, this time with a headshot of her brother. "Carl McCloud." He brought up others in rapid succession. "Your father's. Your mother's. And this last one, which I just analyzed today…your grandmother's. Krystal McCloud. The last Cerinian."

Terrany's heart grew colder with every next image. Dr. Bushtail hit a button, and the genetic profiles overlapped.

"Your grandmother was known to have an unquantified talent for seeking the thoughts and emotions of others. Telepathy, in short."

"Oh, shit." Terrany said, so softly that her lips seemed to move soundlessly.

"I'm not an archaeologist, either. So this was where I had to make a leap for my hypothesis. If Krystal's telepathy was an inherent Cerinian characteristic, then there had to be a genetic key. A marker that you and she shared. And it had to be a trait with incomplete dominance. Your father wasn't telepathic, nor was your brother. I had to go back three generations before I found it."

He put Terrany's and Krystal's genetic profiles side by side, then overlapped them. The sequences looked disjointed, save for a few places…primarily among them a few strands on their X chromosomes.

"Cerinian females all had one major thing in common; the color of their fur was always blue. I had ROB tap into the Cornerian historical archives to confirm it. You think your fur is white, that you're an albino…in truth, when examined closely in dim light, your fur is a very light, light blue. It just seems white most of the time, because our eyes aren't sensitive enough to catch the distinction. Your father carried the gene for blue fur on the X chromosome he inherited from your grandmother, but blue hair is apparently a recessive trait: The presence of a male Y chromosome masked it. It was the only coincidence, the only difference I could find. And then I thought, if blue fur was a polygenic trait…perhaps telepathy was as well."

A nearby perfect genetic match to the recessive blue hair gene was highlighted, and Terrany shook in her seat. Rourke reached over, surprised at her reaction, and set his hand on her shoulder. His presence stilled the panic momentarily.

"Of course, in your case, you didn't inherit the complete Cerinian profile. Your father was a carrier of both the blue-hair gene and this hypothetical "Telepath gene", but your mother, who hails from Katina, was not. When your father passed on his X Chromosome and the recessive traits on it, you were given half of a key. The X Chromosome you received from your mother partially neutralized them. That's why your fur is whitish blue, nearly albino. That's why you've never shown any telepathic tendencies until now."

Dr. Bushtail pulled the display back and tucked it away. "Like I said, it's not technical. I still need to run more tests, but I'm sure I'm on the right track here, Terrany. Your latent abilities have been unlocked because of Merge Mode. Something in how your Seraph is programmed to interact with your cerebral cortex seems to have fired the right synaptic triggers. It's why you're so good at it. Merge Mode is the blending of animal and machine, or in your case, animal to animal. It's probably why you, and only you, could Merge with KIT. Nobody else had the capacity."

"So, does this make Merge Mode more dangerous for me?" Terrany whispered.

"It makes you better at it. And you've gotten more capable every time you've used it." Dr. Bushtail was hesitant to make his praise absolute. "I don't know at this point. The only advice I can give you is to use caution with it. That's the one positive thing about this revelation; your limited telepathy only kicks in when you're linked up in your Arwing."

Terrany looked down at the ground. "That's not the case anymore."

Dr. Bushtail blinked. "What? Whu…what's happening?"

"She's hearing my thoughts." Rourke explained, while Terrany fidgeted with her hands.

"Where were you, and what were you doing when it happened?" This time, neither pilot saw fit to offer an answer, and the simian leaned back in his chair. "So you two are sexually active now?"

"No!" Rourke quickly insisted. Terrany gave him a look, and he doubled back. "Not yet, that is. We were just kissing, and…"

"Stop." The doctor pinched at the fur and skin between his eyes. "I am _really_ tried right now. This is one conversation best had tomorrow after lunch. I'll just remind the two of you that there's a 6 year age gap between you, and that Terrany isn't even 20 yet."

"I'm old enough to fight in this war, I should be old enough to…"

"Guh guh!" The simian cringed again, stopping her. "Please, _please_ stop talking. All right, so you're emotionally involved, if not physically. That probably has a great deal to do with your latest symptoms. You're tied to Rourke, which is making you more sensitive to him…just like you're sensitive to the thoughts of KIT."

"Hey, I'm not in love with Falco."

"Love has nothing to do with it, I suspect." Bushtail pointed at her. "It's familiarity, the level of trust you have with someone that matters."

"So what does this mean?"

"It means I have no idea what's going on, and I won't until I do some more tests. So the two of you, get back to bed, take two aspirin, and call me in the morning." As they stood back up, he raised a finger. "Separate beds, please. You need to actually sleep."

Rourke chuckled. "We're that obvious?"

"You're not, Rourke, but she is." The doctor concluded.

* * *

_Venom_

_Hall of Antiquity_

"…and our excavation teams estimate that the Worldbreaker will be fully unearthed in a week's time." One of the junior officers of the Armada was rattling off a status update to the military hierarchy, and for a change, everyone was staying awake to listen. Among that small handful of privileged warriors was Grandflight Gatlus, who was relaxed in his posture, but not in his expression. He listened, but gave the young Primal only cursory glances.

"In the expectation of recovering our ancestor's great achievement, we have already begun training and stationing a crew inside. When completely manned, the Worldbreaker will be able to house nearly 300 spacefighters of varying type. Our technicians have started to modify the existing secondary weaponry, but report that no alterations are required for the main emitter."

One of the Praetors in the room spoke up, pulling Gatlus back to the present. "Grandflight Gatlus, we will look to your expertise in this matter." Gatlus raised his wizened head up and nodded, even as the Praetor, an Elite Primal, rubbed at his hairless chin. "With the named Squadrons all assigned to various regions of interest, I would ask that you examine the rest of the fighter corps to determine suitable squadrons for posts on the Worldbreaker."

"I shall review our personnel files." Gatlus stood up and came to attention. "With your permission, gentlemen, I shall get started immediately."

"Granted." The most superior officer in the room waved him off. "Go forth with the blessings of our Lord." Gatlus turned about and exited the room, smiling only when the others couldn't see him.

Stepping out into the main corridor, Gatlus sighted one of the pilots in Phoenix Squadron. The black and red uniform, the same color as the spacefighters synonymous with their unit, was unmistakable.

"You there!" Gatlus called after him. The pilot paused and turned around, straightening up when he recognized the older Primal. "You're one of Telemos's men, aren't you?"

"Yes, Grandflight. Lashal Orrek, callsign Saber."

"Lashal, of course." The veteran made a mental note to remember the young man's name. "It's good to see you again. How are you?"

"As well as can be expected, considering the outcome on Darussia."

"I see. And how is Telemos doing? I was called into a meeting right after we lost the feed, and haven't gotten free of the leadership until just now."

Lashal hesitated. "He is…preoccupied."

"I see." Gatlus glanced to the holochronometer projected near the ceiling. "I was just about to get something to eat. Why don't you join me?" The request was actually an order, and Lashal was wise enough to recognize that.

Ten minutes later, Lashal nursed a mug of Firewheat beer while Gatlus dug into a bowl of spicy noodles and kefflin. The younger pilot waited while his superior savored the first slurp.

"Is he preoccupied with the Pale Demon, by any chance?" Gatlus proposed. Lashal nodded. "I have warned him already about this target fixation of his, but it seems he must learn things the hard way."

"He believes that he, and he alone, can, and must defeat that white-haired trollop."

"And every pilot she defeats, every Primal who fails to meet her, only deepens that conviction." Gatlus set his food to the side and propped his arms on the table, leaning on his elbows. "And you believe he will not stop until she, or he, is dead?"

"I have flown with Telemos since we were novices under the command of Captain Fritz. He has always been driven, but this time, I am sure he has lost it." Lashal downed the rest of his drink with a sense of finality. "He is coming apart at the hinges."

"I have seen this before." Gatlus mused. "It is truly a horrible thing to behold. The pressures put on us…the shackles of victory, honor, and unceasing blind loyalty are all tighter nooses than we realize."

"So what do we do now?" Lashal leaned forward, eager for the answer.

Gatlus unfolded his arms and sat up. "We give him more rope."

Lashal blinked. "What?"

Gatlus raised his hand in a calming gesture. "He has not hit bottom. Until he does, there is nothing we can do to shake him out of it. So we give him more rope, let him fall, and then climb back out again."

"Or he hangs himself."

"It is not a solution without risk, but I fear if he is as gone as you say, we are past the safe solutions."

Lashal was not pleased, but he put his trust in the words of the Armada's most decorated fighter pilot. "So in this scenario, what qualifies as more rope?"

Gatlus reached for the inner pocket of his coat and removed a memory crystal. "Even without the use of the Cornerian's spy satellites, our sensors are not completely blind. An anomalous signal was detected beyond this system's outer rim, and I suspect that Starfox will be particularly interested in it. Give this copy of that signal log to your captain. I am sure Telemos will take the opportunity to sortie."

Lashal looked from the crystal to Gatlus. "If this information is as important as you say, why is it that the Armada is not moving on it already?"

Gatlus smiled. "I was in the signals room this morning, before the fireworks on Darussia started. Command will not receive word of this signal until tomorrow's briefing…along with the rest of the signals reports. I just happened to be paying attention when it came in, and I marked it low priority. Under a generic clearance code, of course." He raised a finger. "But when they notice it tomorrow, you can be sure that they will send more considerable assets."

"So if we're going to use this to give Telemos a chance to snap out of this mental funk…"

"I would go now." Gatlus finished.

Lashal gave him a grateful nod, then took off like a shot. Gatlus sighed and stood up slowly, the weight of his experience harder on his knees than the years themselves. He resolved to go visit the slave brothels. Variety, after all…

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Rourke O'Donnell's Quarters_

His sleep was dreamless and quiet. That perfect, placid rest was shattered when his communicator went off. Rourke came to and groaned. "Not again." He could have sworn he just got to sleep.

Lurching on his side, he slapped the receive button and slumped back on his pillow. "O'Donnell."

_"It's Grey. We've got a situation. I need you to round up your pilots and report to the bridge."_

"And it couldn't wait until we all recovered from our last mission?"

_"No. I'm waking up Growler Flight as well, so stop bitching and get to it." _Grey severed the connection forcefully, and Rourke grumblingly pulled himself up to sit on the side of the bed.

"Damn." He slumped his head forward in his hands and sighed. "It never ends." Rourke picked up his comm and thumbed it to Dana's frequency. She sounded as groggy as he felt, but agreed to get moving. Terrany would be the harder sell.

The line rang four times before the vixen picked up. _"Yeah?"_ She croaked.

"It's Rourke."

She laughed. _"Changed your mind about a sleepover, huh?"_

"Not exactly, kid. We've got a different kind of playtime on the menu. The general's sounding the alarm."

_"Trouble?"_ Terrany quickly went from amorous to anxious.

"Don't know, but Captain Hound and his boys are getting the same wakeup call. Get dressed, get to the bridge."

_"He'd better have coffee waiting."_

"No shit." Rourke discommed and swore to himself again. "Just one day. Just one day without things falling apart, is that so much to ask?" Nobody was around to answer, and he didn't rightly expect one. He got dressed, ran a wet comb through his headfur, and headed out the door.

* * *

_Bridge_

In spite of the running joke about how long it took a woman to get ready, Dana and Terrany both beat him to the _Wild Fox's_ bridge. So had all of the 21st Squadron as well.

Grey gave him a cursory nod while one of the galley staff passed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Apparently, Pugs did sleep. Hound and the 21st Squadron looked tired, but alert. It was Terrany, Dana, and himself that resembled death warmed over. The night shift on the bridge was present, as was Wyatt, only giving about half his attention to everyone else as he sat enraptured with a file on his datapad.

"Now that everyone's here, let's get started." Grey announced. "I know you're all tired, but we just got this data from Lunar Bases' latest optical burst transmission, and I figured you'd all want to see it." He motioned to the ever-present ROB, who was still occupying the main command chair, and the robot put up a map of the Lylat System on the main viewscreen.

"The reactivation of Corneria's spy satellite network had some unintended results. Thanks to our increased range, the CSC's monitors were able to pick up a radio signal on the emergency subspace band. It was very weak, right on the edge of sensor range beyond the Rim."

Mention of the Rim of Lylat, that invisible outer boundary where the astrosphere produced by Lylat and Solar lost its protective influence against interstellar winds immediately caused the Starfox Team to jerk their heads up. Grey ignored them and continued. "Fact is, the signal is closer to Primal controlled territory than it is to SDF space, and they can't spare anyone to go for the pickup. I figured you'd all be gung-ho for it…seeing as it's one of ours."

ROB brought up the signal schematic and the attached report.

**Signal identified: **_**Classified Project Seraphim Access**_

**Clearance Approved: _X-1 Seraph Arwing prototype 5. Ship in distress._**

"By the Creator." Rourke said, not exhaling.

"It's Carl." Dana gasped out. She clutched a hand to her chest, staring at the screen.

"It _might_ be his ship, but the odds aren't in favor of him being alive." General Grey cautioned them. "It's been weeks since the war started…weeks more since we lost him to that first Primal scoutship. Even if he survived that skirmish, his ship's been drifting out there at the mercy of deep space. His emergency rations would have only lasted him a few days. It might be a Primal trap, meant to bait us."

Terrany took a step closer to the screen and narrowed her eyes. She could feel him. No, that wasn't it; she couldn't feel the _absence_ of him.

"It's him." She said, putting aside fatigue and reaching down inside herself for a few precious moments of iron will and fortitude. The pale-furred vixen turned around and stared to the others in the room, nodding with such absolute certainty that it stopped all doubt.

"My brother is alive."


	25. Shatterpoint

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: SHATTERPOINT

**The McCloud Curse**- The stigma surrounding the pilots of the McCloud line, the so-called "Curse" states that every pilot of their line will perish in the skies. While not technically true in James McCloud's case, due to his death by torture, the curse became established in rumor after both Fox and his only son Maximillian were killed: Fox, by the son of Wolf O'Donnell, and Max McCloud over the skies of Venom, shot down by superior numbers.

_**From the Journal of Commander Carl "Skip" McCloud**_

"_I don't know how much truck I put in with the notion that we're all doomed. Every pilot takes a risk when they step into the cockpit of their plane: It's like sealing the lid on your own coffin. Why should our family be the only ones predestined to die? No, it's rubbish. I'm the lead pilot in charge of a test program, I'm not even assigned to patrol missions anymore. And I've got a girl in my life now. I'd say that the curse can roll over and die, because nothing's going to happen to me."_

* * *

_Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

_45 Days Ago_

_It was a test flight, meant to prove the durability of the thrusters at maximum power and to determine the top speed of the Seraph. After eight minutes of running hard, ODAI finally killed the power on the boosters right as the engine warnings became too annoying to ignore._

_**"We're clocked out at 69,644 kph. Of course, that's because of a lack of friction."**_

_ "In space, there's almost nothing to slow you down." Carl McCloud told his ODAI good-naturedly. "How's the thrusters?"_

_**"Reserves are drained, engines are on cooldown. We're on minimal thrust right now. I'd give it another minute before powering them up again."**_

_"Well, it's just us out here, right?" Carl joked. He glanced at his radar on reflex, a habit he'd picked up during his time in Growler Flight. Captain Hound had always said to be mindful of his surroundings._

_ That impulse earned its keep, because a ship-sized blip appeared on the edge of his scope right as he looked down. It was heading straight for them._

_ "Odd." Carl frowned and tapped the monitor, thinking to reset it if it were a glitch. "Odai, I've got a ship on radar. Can you confirm?"_

_**"Yeah."**__ His onboard AI quickly said. __**"It's a ship, all right. The contours are all wrong for space debris."**_

_ "That's what I thought, too." The brown-furred McCloud hit his radio toggle. "Angel 5 to Alpha Flight. I have an unknown ship closing in on my position. Was there some deep space traffic on my flight path we didn't account for?"_

"Control here. Commander, you should be all alone out there."_ Came the surprised crackling reply over his subspace transceiver._

_ "Which means that this ship is flying without a flight plan." Carl said to himself. "Probably pirates. Odai, power up our weapons and put up our shield status."_

_**"Charging the smart bomb capacitors. Hyper lasers never got turned off, thanks to me." **__The shield gauge took up corner position on his canopy's HUD, and a message flashed in the center of the cover's electrolattice mesh to confirm the weapons status._

_ "They have to pick now, when we've burned through all our synthesized fuel reserve." Skip grumbled._

_**"Since when have space pirates ever fought fair?" **__ODAI countered. A warning alarm followed, and the AI let out a very biological squawk of protest. __**"Boss, their attack radar just came on. We're being painted for lock-on!"**_

_ "What do we have left in the boosters?!"_

_**"Nothing!"**__ What Commander McCloud took from that was they only had the forces of inertia and bad luck on their side. Not a particularly promising combination._

_ He set his radio to headset activation and took hold of the controls. Now, all he'd have to do was talk and it would transmit. "Alpha Flight, Angel 5 is declaring an emergency. I am under attack, repeat, under attack. Enemy ship has achieved radar lock. High probability that they're pirates!"_

"Acknowledged, commander. Should we send reinforcements?"

_ "Hell, this mess'll be done with by the time you got anybody else out…"_

_**"Incoming missiles! Shit, there's three of them!"**__ His ODAI screeched at him._

_ "Motherf…do we have maneuvering thrusters?"_

_**"Just barely."**_

_ "Then turn us toward those missiles!" Carl ordered. Complying, ODAI slowly nudged the Seraph Arwing around, and gave his pilot visual on three bright flares of light coming towards him with darkened centers: The missiles, and the coronas of their exhaust._

_**"Bombs are back online!"**_

_"Skip" McCloud depressed his gun trigger, building up a charge shot. By the time his targeting reticule turned red, it was lined up on the lead missile. He flicked the cover off of the bomb release trigger at the top of his control stick and jammed it down. The Arwing shuddered slightly as a brilliant red dot of light separated from under its nose and streaked towards the marked missile. It homed in and detonated in a wash of angry nuclear fire, annihilating the projectile. The wash of high energy from the Cornite explosive set off the other two as well, clearing the immediate threat._

_**"Great shot, boss!"**_

_ "What kind of missiles are those, Odai?"_

_**"No idea, boss. Configuration doesn't match anything in my munitions record."**_

_ "At all? You telling me that this is something new?"_

_**"I'm wondering if this ship isn't something new." **__The AI answered. That made Carl lean forward against the straps of his harness._

_ "Is it close enough for a visual yet?"_

_**"Hang on…yeah, at maximum magnification on the forward camera. I'll put it on the diagnostics screen."**_

_ McCloud craned his head slightly as the grainy image of a ship, brightened by the false illumination of a visual filter appeared. A few seconds later, the picture cleared up, and Carl got his first good look at it._

_ He'd never seen a ship like it before. "Odai…this thing's trajectory, where's it coming from?"_

_**"Deep space. Real deep space."**_

_"I was afraid you'd say that." Carl said, feeling his throat dry up on him. He tapped the side of his headset and brought his microphone online. "Alpha Flight, Angel 5. Bogey is unknown, and not space pirate. I repeat, the enemy vessel is not from Lylat…"_

_ All he got in response was the hiss of scrambled static, and Carl turned the volume down with a wince. "Shit! Are they jamming us?"_

_**"Affirmative. They're firing more missiles, too."**_

_ "Can't call for help, going up against an unknown enemy…not exactly what I signed up for. Just how many of those things are they packing?!" Carl snapped, not expecting an answer. "Do we have thrusters yet?"_

_**"I can give you standard thrust in ten seconds, but we'll have squat for reserves. No boosters."**_

_ "I'll take it! At least then we'll be a moving target."_

_ The missiles kept tracking in, and Carl took aim, locking on to the lead projectile. Opting for a charged laserburst, he let it fly. This time, the missiles spaced themselves apart as his shot closed the gap. One missile was destroyed, but the other two kept coming._

_**"Thrusters online! Go, GO!"**_

_ Carl needed no further encouragement. After drifting at the mercy of their attacks for far too long, his fingers pushed the touch-sensitive throttle slider bar up to standard thrust. A flick of his thumb at the wing controls put him from launch position to interceptor mode. The Seraph's thrusters came to life, and the ship began to respond to his commands. He turned on the missile to his right and went head to head with it, lobbing another charge shot. The missile jinked wildly and escaped target lock, but having expected the maneuver, Carl had led it with the Arwing's nose. A staccato blast of his hyper lasers stitched across the missile, destabilizing the warhead and shattering the housing._

_**"The last one's on our tail! It's turning in on us!"**__ ODAI warned him. The brown-furred McCloud didn't seem bothered by that fact in the least. He glanced back over his shoulder almost casually, sighted the missile, and pulled back on the stick._

_ "Give me control of the maneuvering thrusters in three seconds." He ordered the onboard AI._

_**"What? Why do…"**_

_ Carl reached for the throttle, pressing his fingers down on the surface. Ignoring ODAI, he counted down. "Two…one…" At zero, he killed the main thrusters. With his Arwing coasting along, he used the maneuvering thrusters to spin his nose around. It gave the eerie impression that his ship was flying backwards._

_ The missile was closing fast on him, but Carl filled the space between them with laserfire, catching the missile, or whoever was controlling it, completely by surprise. It was torn apart, and Carl turned the Arwing forward again, then reactivated the main thrusters._

_**"What the hell kind of stunt was that?!" **__His ODAI demanded. In spite of the dire circumstances, Carl smiled._

_ "THAT was a trick my sister came up with. And I thought I'd never have a reason to use it."_

_**"Hey, I'm just glad it worked. But don't get too cocky, boss. That ship is closing in."**_

_ "Got tired of lobbing dud missiles, probably." Carl swung the Arwing around until the enemy vessel was dead in his sights. "Got any stats on this thing yet?"_

_**"It's about twice the size of a Rondo, and it's going about as fast as you right now."**_

_ "Big and slow." Carl's fingers tightened on the control stick. "Which means either it's got a hard shell, or loads of firepower."_

_**"Or both."**__ ODAI said, full of good news._

_ "Or both." Carl admitted. The pilot grimaced. "Rules of Engagement say to try to hail the aggressor and get them to stand down before opening fire."_

_**"Are you serious? He's trying to kill us!" **__ODAI protested. __**"And he's jamming us. We couldn't talk to him if we wanted to!"**_

_ "Then I'd say it's safe to slag these out-of-state assholes, wouldn't you?"_

_**"Now you're speaking my language." **__The AI chirped cheerfully. Carl depressed the gun trigger and started to build up another charge._

_ "If you get your personality from me, Odai, why is it you never seem to take things seriously?"_

_**"I guess I must have gotten my subroutines from your repressed, fun-loving side."**_

_ "And you choose now to put it on display?"_

_**"Hey, you have your ways of coping with a stressful situation. I have mine."**_

_ The enemy vessel was close enough now that Carl could view its outline without the magnification his ship's cameras offered. It resembled a cylinder with a blunted nose, and had two large tail sections jutting out of the back at an angle, forming a crude V. There were no wings to speak of._

_ "Ugly son of a bitch, wherever it's from." In a slow, deliberate fashion, the dull gray ship suddenly seemed to sprout holes across its nose and back. With a looming sense of dread, Skip recognized the pattern of pinpricks for what they were…gunports being revealed as the ship's paneling recessed._

_ "Oh, hell." He spun his ship into a tight aileron roll, just as the first volley of laserfire came streaking towards him. The maneuver put up a deflective barrier of electromagnetism, sparing his shields from the potent volley. The Arwing righted itself on the other side of the firestorm, and Carl swore. "That could have killed us!"_

_**"Yeah, I noticed." **__ODAI snarked at him. __**"I think I've got something. Their gun emplacements suggest a preference for head-on passes. I'd bet that…"**_

_"…That they've got a weak point of defense on their ass. Sounds like we're going for their engines." Carl piloted the Arwing around the port side of the enemy ship, jinking wildly to throw off their aim. Just as ODAI had predicted, the laserfire from the ship slackened off the closer they came to its stern._

_ As they finished their circle and turned on the ship's tail, Rourke got his first look at its engine configuration: Three engines, one stacked on top of the other two to form a pyramid. The edges of the exhaust nozzles moved slightly, redirecting their thrust. _

_**"Thrust vectoring. Nice touch."**_

_ "At least until we came along." His homing laserburst charged, Carl targeted the bottom right engine and let the shot fly. He followed it in, peppering the thruster with hyper laserfire to weaken it for the blow. The metal glowed under his strafing run, and when his laserburst exploded, the entire engine mount destabilized. It blew apart, bits of shrapnel slashing outwards, and even sent a wave of debris into the remaining two engines. Rocket fuel, or whatever was powering the ship leaked from the wound in a fiery geyser._

_ "That got him!" Carl cheered the visible damage, pulling clear and falling back for another pass. His ebullience was snuffed out when the wounded ship reacted to its damage. As he glanced over his shoulder, the two bulging tail sections detached from the ship and began to unfold, opening up to form two smaller ships of their own._

_**"Goddamn, where are these clowns getting their toys?" **__ODAI marveled._

_ "Boosters?" Carl asked tersely, starting on his next attack run. _

_**"Still charging. No dice."**_

_ "Not the answer I want to hear, Odai."_

_**"How about, **_**I cannae give ye anymore, captain?**_**"**__ The AI retorted. Skip didn't have time to match the jibe, for the two podships suddenly were lashed by blinding whips of electricity to power nodes their mounts had kept covered. Tethered to their home ship, and feeding from its power supply, the podships leapt forward, belching angry balls of plasma from their turrets._

_ Unlike lasers and particle rays, plasma was not so easily deflected by an aileron roll. For a short time during the Resistance's heyday against the SDF, Insurrectionists had used plasma weaponry on their ships as an effective counter to the march of the Arwing fleet. Later finding them to be cost-prohibitive, the SDF had outlawed plasma weapons technology in the Darussian accords. For that reason, Carl was surprised, and caught off guard halfway through his first spin. Two-well placed bursts of ball plasma refused to be swept aside by the defensive maneuver, and impacted along the belly of the Arwing. The shields flared in protest, rocking his ship as they compensated._

_ "Damn these bastards!" Carl grit his teeth and turned on the tail of one podship, locking on with another charge shot. He kept one eye open for its companion, and noted that it was turning about to get on his six as well. "So we're playing __**this**__ game." He said to himself._

_ One ship allowed him to pursue, which let the other ship follow and gain a bead on him. It was a simple trapping play in air combat maneuvering, but one that was no less effective. Carl could either keep on his track and hope he could destroy the lead podship in time to escape the wrath of its comrade, or he could break off and start the clock again._

_ His thruster status determined his reaction. Carl pulled back on his stick and broke off, and the pursuing podship struggled to follow him after the surprise maneuver. The lead ship flew along on its leash unmolested, and started to turn around. Adding to the pressure, the mothership the podships were tied to eagerly opened up with its own laser turrets when the Arwing strayed into its forward airspace._

_**"Damn! I'm beginning to think this ship of theirs is pretty damn scary." **__ODAI grumbled._

_ "They've got us on the defensive here. Give me some ideas, Odai, that's what you're here for."_

_**"All right, fine. I wasn't getting any power reading from those two modules before they separated. I'm guessing that if you could sever their connection to mommy, they'd be scrapping useless."**_

_"Well, all right. We've got a plan, then. We'll starve the little buggers."_

_**"Yeah, it's kind of like cutting the umbilical!"**_

_ Carl swung around and zoomed his scope in on the ventral section of one podship, marking the power antenna. "There you are."_

_**"There it is."**__ ODAI said, just as the podship started to move again. __**"And there it goes. Boss, I'm not sure you can line up a clean enough shot there."**_

_ "Hey, I'm a McCloud." Carl said confidently. "Just watch me." He veered the Arwing around, strafing empty space in front of the podships. One veered away to avoid taking damage, and Carl aimed at its tail, intently focused on the power antenna that swerved into view. His first shots were close, but not pinpoint accurate: They lashed against the shielding of the smaller craft, failing to penetrate it entirely. The other drone dove in front of the other and unleashed a stream of plasmifre. Carl broke off to foil its aim, but the tiny craft pursued, and scorched the Arwing's tail. The aft shielding shrank to keep from buckling, which exposed enough of his port thruster that the attack broke through and warped the exhaust nozzle. _

_ The thruster shut down automatically, causing the Arwing to lurch to the side. Carl gripped the stick with both hands and tried to force it back under control. _

_**"Damnit! Sorry boss, they fragged an engine!"**_

_ "Makes us sitting ducks." Carl gnashed his teeth, watching as one wild ball of plasma after another screamed through the space around him. Only one jink after another kept it from landing another blow. His mind raced desperately for a solution, and when one came, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to let ODAI complain for a few more seconds. _

_ No. The focus was survival. The rest was details. "Odai, prepare for Merge Mode."_

_**"Say what?! Skip, you know that we're not supposed to use that function yet, we're testing it next week!"**_

_ A plasma ball ignited just over the canopy, and Carl flinched. "Mister, if we don't survive this, there won't __**be**__ a next week. We're outflanked, outgunned, and one engine down. You have a better idea?"_

_**"Not really, but let me just say in advance that I hate this one!"**_

_ Carl ignored the complaint, preparing himself for what was coming. Merge Mode was the blending of a living mind with the ship's computer. The ODAIs were crude imitations of an AI program called KIT, with which Carl, alongside every other pilot in Seraph Flight, had failed to synchronize with. Crude imitations as they were, they were easier to get along with, being mirrors of their pilots' psyches. Merge Mode testing hadn't fully begun, and Carl had only one successful Merge to date, which had lasted all of twelve seconds before they'd dropped out due to loss of synch._

_ One thought drove the both of them now, though: Survival. That unity of purpose was all they needed for Merge Mode to take hold. Carl felt a brief stinging along the ridge of his helmet as the metallic studs that allowed synaptic interlink fulfilled their purpose. He blinked, and when they opened again, he saw the universe through that surreal combination of sensory inputs that Merge Mode provided._

_ Outside, his wounded Arwing began to morph into something that only a handful of souls at Ursa Station had seen before. The ridges along the wings spread apart, granting the ship a six-winged configuration. The blue G-Negator pods split apart twice into a menacing pair of open diamonds, exposing a powerful cannon that had been hiding inside each device._

_ The unidentified enemy craft had leapt into a fight with a clear advantage, and now that assured victory had become anything but. Reacting to the new threat, the two podships converged on the transformed Arwing, firing a constant stream of plasmafire. Though powerful, the shots came slower than lasers would have. The Arwing hovered motionlessly for a few moments as the shots flew in, then performed an impossible acrobatic twist, leaping up and spinning away with no regard for momentum._

_ As it did, it raked one podship with blinding, white-hot lasers from the exposed gunports inside the folded out G-Negators on its wing struts. The violent attack caught the enemy off guard, and the shielding protecting the craft buckled. The last part of the salvo bored three smoking holes clean through the small craft and knocked the power antenna clean off of its mount. Severed from its power supply, the wounded podship drifted off helplessly. There was a final spark of power from the home ship's linking antenna, and then it fell silent. Only one podship remained._

_ As though the blow had roused it to anger, the enemy ship opened up with what seemed to be every missile they had kept in reserve. A full fourteen missiles in all streaked towards the Arwing, intent on wiping it out. Unfazed, the transformed Seraph launched a single glowing projectile in response. _

_ It closed in on the missiles and the pursuing ship, then when it had closed the gap and achieved proximity lock, the supercharged smart bomb detonated. A wave of light came first, bright enough to have blinded anyone unlucky enough to be watching too closely, and then paradoxically the explosion imploded on itself. Powerful gravitational eddies suddenly tore and ripped at the missiles and the ship that had launched them, drawing shorn off slivers of matter towards a dark point at the heart of the nimbus…an artificially created, unstable depression in spacetime with tremendous density and pull. A microsingularity. A black hole._

_ Every missile was dismantled and lost to spaghettification, and the full front quarter of the alien ship was annihilated in the same manner. The microsingularity began to quaver, destabilizing after its hearty meal. Unable to absorb any more, the microsingularity collapsed and blew apart in a high energy burst, releasing all the matter it had collected as raw and unfiltered energy. The scoutship's shielding, already buckled, was stripped away completely. The hull warped and discolored under the assault, showing the effect of the wash that had killed anyone still alive. In one last gasp, it tried to recall the final podship, tugging on it by the powerful tether._

_ That tether, only a half second before it collapsed, scraped across the port wings of the Seraph Arwing. The shielding flared brightly, sparing the wings from being sheared off, but not protecting them completely. The delicate instrumentation aboard the secondary wings shorted out in a shower of sparks, and the resulting reaction carried back through the Arwing, setting off another explosion inside the cockpit._

_ Silence overtook space once more. The wreck of the alien ship drifted away harmlessly, and its podship tumbled end over end in the opposite direction. The wounded Arwing transformed back, its left wings sluggish to change, and unable to fold back in completely. A thin cloud of smoke inside the cockpit cut down on visibility._

_ Carl McCloud he had only two seconds to consider his fate. After Merge Mode was interrupted, and ODAI was safely tucked back away inside the Arwing's databanks, his own sensory perceptions told him a very grim story. His lungs screamed for breathable air and could find none in a cockpit full of smoke and acrid ozone. The scrubbers couldn't keep up. His instrumentation panels had shorted out after the critical systems damage caused by that wild arc of lightning, and several of them had blown out, embedding shards of glass into his body with horrific aim. Sparks had singed his fur and seared his flesh. His head had whipped back hard against the seat from the force of the blows, causing intracranial hemorrhage. It was all too much for the pilot to take in, too much for anyone to endure. He slipped into unconsciousness, no orders given, no last words offered. His battle had ended, and the cost of victory had been an eye for an eye. A ship for a ship._

_**"Boss? Boss!" **__ODAI feverishly cried out. Though the diagnostics panel was shot, somehow the speakers were still working. The voice of the ship's AI came through garbled. __**"Aw, jeez, we got hit bad. That energy whip fried our systems. We've got no thrusters or FTL, fusion reactor's shutting down to prevent loss of containment, subspace communications are shot…" **__ODAI paused, realizing he was receiving no stimuli from his pilot. __**"Boss? Skip?" **__No answer. Only an unsteady heartbeat and an EEG that bordered on flatline. __**"Carl? Wake up, buddy. Wake up. Please?"**_

_ As the seconds ticked by and the atmospheric scrubbers of the Arwing cleared out the air, ODAI began to realize that Carl McCloud was gravely wounded, unconscious, likely comatose._

_ There would be no calling for help. There would be no return flight to Ursa Station for repairs and medical treatment. Their ship was dead in the water. ODAI had never been programmed to handle a situation like this. A recurrent logic loop nearly overheated his undamaged circuits, until he snapped out of it with a plan._

_**"I don't know if you can hear me, boss, but this is real bad. You're out like a light, and the way things are going, you're not going to live long enough for them to find us. If they find us. With our subspace communications down after that attack…they'd have to be almost on top of us for the emergency beacon to be picked up."**_

_Of course, Carl didn't answer. __**"I'm shutting everything down. This ship is bleeding to death. I'll keep power to the beacon, but…life support's not going to do you any good now. I know you'd hate this, but I don't have a choice. I can't fly this ship myself, even if I wanted to. Even if we could."**_

_As the last of the smoke vanished from the cockpit, a strong hiss and an overwhelming chemical smell made itself known. Frothy turquoise blue smoke aerated up from the floor of the cockpit, replacing the atmosphere. As it thickened, it took on a syrupy, liquid quality, soaking into everything._

_ Just before the blue substance reached the speakers, ODAI spoke one last time. __**"I'm dumping thruster coolant into the cockpit. It should cryofreeze you, especially once the heater dies. I'm sorry, Skip. I'll have to shut myself off. Just stay alive, all right? When they find us…if they find us, you've gotta stay…"**_

_ And then the speakers crackled and fizzled as the coolant shorted them out. The cockpit finished filling with the blue coolant, filling every crevice and cranny. It drowned Carl's body, and instantly froze his tissues, preventing the so-called "Freezer burn" so many cryogenic processes had. Of course, none had been tried in space._

_ Its comatose pilot frozen, its AI gone into shutdown to conserve precious power for the distress beacon, the Seraph Arwing drifted helplessly in the deep space beyond the Rim of Lylat._

_ Waiting._

* * *

_Present Day_

_Subspace, FTL Corridor_

With the _Wild Fox_ still grounded, the options left for them were few. On top of lacking the support their homeship could provide, it also made retrieval a much dicier proposition. They had Rondo transports that could carry the ship if it were folded up into launch position, but that was unlikely. So that had meant requisitioning an Albatross from the SDF's motor pool on Katina, and then loading it up with Project Seraphim staff…all at an hour when most people were asleep.

The pace at which all of that had been forced into action was due to a reluctant, unanimous vote. Both Dana and Terrany had insisted that they had to mount a rescue, and when Rourke had tried to voice caution, they had turned on their flight lead, saying that they would go alone if they had to. Once they had strong-armed Rourke, Captain Hound and the 21st Squadron had elected to go as well, if only to keep tabs on the more exhausted, and member-depleted, Starfox Squadron. General Grey had tried to tell them to sleep and set out in the morning. Terrany had replied, bluntly, they would sleep on the way.

That, of course, was a baldfaced lie. The pilots may have had their eyes closed as the luminescent wash of blue and white light from the subspace corridor shimmered around them, but nobody was sleeping. Each was lost in their own mind, still reeling at what the possibility of Skip McCloud's survival meant. For Terrany, it meant that she had been right all along about refusing to give in to the "Killed In Action" belief that the others had accepted as fact. It meant she wasn't the last McCloud. It meant the so-called family curse really was a load of hogwash.

It meant that she would finally get to fly with her brother, just like she'd always wanted. They just had to find him, and hope they could patch him up first.

_"You should really try to get some sleep." _KIT chimed in. Terrany opened one eye.

"How do you know I wasn't?"

_"These cockpits aren't exactly built for comfort, kid. Plus, the ship is recording your biorhythms. If you were sleeping, I'd know."_

"Yeah?" Terrany strained against her harness, stretching her legs in the tight space. "Damn. I'm cramping up here."

_"Hey, I don't need to know about your time of the month."_

"It's the other kind of cramp, you idiot." Terrany muttered. "My body's just telling me it doesn't like all this abuse."

_"No, I don't imagine it does."_

Terrany looked up through her canopy, sizing up the ships clustered around the Albatross transport. Besides her, there were three Seraph Arwings and two Model K Arwings, the latter flown by Captain Hound and Damer Ostwind. With Milo out of the picture, Damer was the only battle analyst they had on hand. None of their Arwings were in top form for this jaunt: The technicians, busily working to finish the repairs on the _Wild Fox_, had only assigned a token crew for maintenance when they had put down. And they'd only had a few hours to work, which hadn't been enough time to run realignment of the G-Diffuser field matrix, or even to replenish the bomb supply. Terrany and Rourke were both loaded up with Godsight Pods, Rourke having elected to carry the ones Milo had lugged over on Darussia. Everyone else had smart bombs, and of those, only a depleted supply of the Cornite-powered munitions.

Their job was to secure the area, patrol for threats, and engage any unfriendlies to keep the Albatross safe for salvage and rescue operation. Terrany hoped, more than believed, that it would be uneventful.

_"So what's bothering you now?"_

"Aside from the fact I just found out I'm partly psychic, and that's why you and I Merge so well?" Terrany clarified.

KIT chuckled. _"You'll be fine. Krystal handled her telepathy well enough, you should too. Yes, aside from that…and please stop thinking about Rourke. It's disturbing."_

Terrany drew a hand over her face. "So now you're seeing my thoughts. Great. I'm more tired than I thought."

_"Clearly."_ KIT was nonplussed. _"What is it?"_

Terrany mulled it over before speaking. "Did you ever have to do anything like this? A rescue mission?"

_"Actually, yes." _KIT grunted. _"After Fox soloed Andross and we put up with that awkward award ceremony…"_

"Awkward?"

_"Yeah. General Pepper tried to recruit us as military pilots in the same breath he congratulated us. Can I finish?"_

"Sorry."

_"Like I was saying, after all of that, we were tasked with cleaning up a few points of interest our first pass through the System had missed. One of them was a suspected base Andross had tucked away in Sector X. When we got to it, the whole damn thing had been torn apart by a giant robot. We took it down, but not before Slippy got too close to it trying to be a hero. It knocked him off course and sent him towards a dustball called Titania."_

"Titania. I read about that. It's a giant desert planet, isn't it?"

_"And nothing but desert. Let me tell you, that was not a nice mission. Your granddad at least had a bit of fun with it. He took the Landmaster out for a spin again."_

Terrany smiled. "Family legends say he once blew up an entire munitions factory with it."

_"That's partly true. He actually switched a train to the factory's track. The train blew up the factory."_

"Train fu?"

_"Hey, it made a nice, big explosion." _KIT joked. _"But yeah, I've done rescue missions. Just keep your head on a swivel and you should be fine. It'd help if you could get some sleep, though."_

"How do you expect me to sleep?"

_"I could play a little Finny G, if you like."_

"Pass." Terrany shut her eyes. "I'd just feel better if I knew exactly how bad off he was."

_"He's a McCloud, Terrany." _KIT replied. _"Trust me, he'll make it."_

"You don't believe in the curse either, do you?"

_"Fox died because of a cheap, backstabbing blow. Your father was outnumbered 50 to 1. I don't think Carl would die to a single Primal scoutship."_

Terrany didn't want to believe that either, and so finally claiming a measure of peace, she let the universe slip away.

* * *

For Dana, the news of the distress beacon from Carl's ship had been the hammerblow that finally drove a spike of emotion into her heart. When Carl had first gone missing, she had simply shut down. All of her grief, her rage, had been kept bottled up inside of her and never released. When they decided to bring Terrany onto Project Seraphim, Dana had been more of an automaton than Milo's ODAI. Refusing to hold to an opinion, struggling between the hope he had survived and the pain of his demise, Dana had crumbled from the inside out. It had come to a head on their counterstrike on Venom.

Had she wanted to die then? Dana hadn't known then. Still didn't know. All she had left after Carl, after the start of the war, was the team. Rourke, Milo, and Terrany, who she had grown fond of. She had loved and she had lost, and the truth was, she'd never committed to either path.

In the silence of her cockpit, the tigress slept fitfully. Visions of a ghostly Carl McCloud, bleeding and disapproving, assaulted her. His spirit didn't attack her: It did not need to. Instead, it asked her two questions, and two questions only.

_**Why did you give up on me?**_

_** Why didn't you let me go?**_

As confused as she was, that hollow specter brought torment, for Dana had allowed herself little else. In the silence of subspace, her fluttering eyes overflowed with finally released tears.

* * *

Being the flight lead of Seraph Flight, to say nothing of Starfox, had never entered into Rourke's mind when Carl McCloud had first spoken to him. The O'Donnell had always assumed he would be the second banana to Skip. He was comfortable with it. He had made his peace with it.

And all that had been ripped out from under him in a flash. When they had lost Carl's signal, when everything went dark, the responsibilities that Skip McCloud had shouldered so effortlessly had collapsed onto Rourke's shoulders. He had spent weeks trying to get used to it. He was still getting used to it. In the process of leading this team, he had been thrown into a war, fallen for Carl's little sister, and nearly lost his mind once or twice. But through his successes, through his mistakes, the one absolute had been his command. When they flew into the Meteo asteroid belt and retrieved the _Wild Fox_, he was in charge. When they rescued Corneria City, he was in charge. When they struck a retributive blow at Venom and freed Papetoon, he had been in charge.

But now, Skip was alive. Unable to sleep, Rourke unlatched his harness, leaning the side of his head against the canopy, letting it leech the heat from his fevered brain.

**"Boss, you shouldn't detach your harness."**The ship's AI spoke up.

"Are you expecting any evasive maneuvers here in subspace?"

**"Well, no, but…"**

"Buts are for pooping." Rourke snapped back, silently adding _and squeezing_ at the end. "Give me a five minute warning before we drop clear. I'll suit up then."

**"You should really try to get some sleep."**

"What do you think I'm doing, genius?" His ODAI got the hint and went quiet. Rourke sighed and tapped on the canopy.

Carl was alive. So what did that mean for him? Was he still in command? Was this still his team? Or would Skip replace him, assume control of the Starfox Squadron? In a way, it made sense. Skip was a McCloud. It should be a McCloud leading the team. An O'Donnell in control of Starfox? That was a cosmic joke. Somehow, Rourke didn't care for the punchline. So what was he feeling?

Was he relieved that his superior, his friend was still around? Was he jealous of what that would do to his own standing? And what did all of his petty concerns mean, when Terrany wanted to get her brother back, and Dana her lost love? They meant nothing.

They meant everything.

There, as always, the raspy and abusive laugh of his grandfather came unbidden.

_"Not so easy hiding who you really are, is it, boy?"_

Rourke clenched his teeth and rode out the noise. There would be no sleep for him.

* * *

_Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

_600 km from the Signal Source_

Captain Telemos and the rest of Phoenix Squadron were also managing the thin balancing act between sleep and total lucidity. On the orders of Telemos, they had taken up position on the farthest rim of visual range to the wounded Arwing. Their Phoenix spacefighters, untested in real combat, sat quiet in the void with just enough momentum left to keep pace with the drifting enemy fighter. Every system that could be shut off was: Only the radar-cancelling equipment, the environmental systems, and their radios, kept safely in passive "Intercept" mode, were on. This gave them the infrared signatures of distant stars, along with the minimal radar cross-section their ship's systems gave them. When combined with the revised deep black paint scheme, interrupted only by red running lines, the effect was immediate.

They simply did not exist.

Lashal, Nomen, Vodari. Phoenix 2, 3, and 4, and his squadmates through many years and many conquests. It had been Lashal Orrek who had brought him the information…how his trusted second had discovered it, he did not know…but Saber had done so not with an emotion of joy or eagerness. Instead, the Primal Telemos trusted as his right hand had been hesitant and unsteady.

He had never been like that before. So what did that say about this mission? About Telemos himself?

The Primal captain raised his hands up and rubbed slowly at his face. Radio silence, by his order, prevented him from conversing with Lashal about the rift between them. But surely it was not that great. Surely Lashal understood how important this all was. Surely he realized by now that the Pale Demon was not just an obstacle to Telemos, but to all of them. She had deprived Tinder Squadron of their honor, had killed one of their own and left the other four to survive in dishonor.

This was the path to triumph. For all of them. Telemos drew power from that belief, and pushed his doubts aside. The Pale Demon was everything. The problem. The solution. His focus. His target.

His obsession.

Her death would signal the turning point of the war. Without their McCloud, the Cornerians would crumble. He was sure of it.

Telemos lifted his hand up, touching the tinted black canopy that protected him from hard vacuum. It chilled his fingertips, and he pulled his hand back.

"Soon." He told himself. His shame and dishonor would be over soon.

* * *

_Katina_

_Very Early Morning_

As work crews offloaded the hoversled carrying the remains of his Seraph Arwing, Sergeant Milo Granger trudged off the end of the Rondo transport alongside the pilot, Corph the Venomian lizard.

"You sure you're good to go, Sergeant?" Corph asked him.

Milo gave him a smile and a firm handshake. "Yeah. Thanks for the ride."

"Hey, for a member of Starfox, anytime."

Milo nodded at him again and walked towards the _Wild Fox_. He wasn't surprised to see General Grey waiting for him 60 meters from the ship's launch bay. The raccoon offered a cursory salute, noticing that Grey's return seemed sluggish. "Rough night, general?"

"Rough day. Never got to sleep. Everybody else has already sortied again."

Milo frowned at the news and stepped around Grey. "I see that I missed an important briefing. Care to fill me in?"

The two moved at a quick march towards the launch bay. "I've got Wyatt and all of his boys on final repairs of the ship. It was supposed to be ready tomo…" Grey paused, and glanced at his wristwatch, "…this afternoon. Wyatt tells me that we'll have it airborne in five hours."

"What's the rush? Are the Primals going after Corneria again?"

General Grey shoved his unlit corncob pipe between his teeth. "No. the rest of the team and Growler Squadron are headed out beyond the Rim. With the Portal Generator, we should be able to catch up with them before any Primals do. I hope you got some sleep on the trip over, because I need you on weapons realignment on the bridge."

"But what are they…" Milo started to ask. He caught himself and did a double take, staring at his superior. "You don't mean we…"

"We found him, Milo." Grey confirmed. "With any luck, we'll be bringing him home alive."

Grey moved ahead of him, and it took Milo a few seconds to realize he'd stopped walking. He ran to catch up.

* * *

_Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

_16__th__ Day of the Primal War_

_6:40 A.M. (Cornerian Standard Time)_

The stars distorted as a rift between subspace and normal space shivered open. The two brightest, Lylat and Solar, glowed behind the wake as six gleaming blue and silvery-white spacefighters exploded out of the nearby indiscernible breach. There was a larger spasm as a lumbering, pot-bellied transport came out behind them. One Arwing shot ahead, two more split off forward left and forward right, and the remaining three doubled back and began to circle around the transport.

This was the strategy that Captain Hound and Rourke had agreed on: Starfox would scout the operations area, and the 21st would protect the Albatross. Rourke's Arwing launched four small pods from its belly, which began to rotate around the vessel, hugging its shields. The Godsight Pods did their work, and the optical interlink came online.

"This is Starfox lead. Are you reading, transport?"

_"Fat Duck here. Your optical signal is coming in clear."_

"I have the emergency beacon's signal on my screen. Can you confirm?"

_"Confirmed. Signal is originating from Heading 024, Mark 076. Distance is 3000 kilometers."_

Rourke checked his readouts. "That looks right. Growler Squadron, follow Fat Duck in. Girls, any bogies?"

"Dana here. Nothing."

"Terrany. Skies are clear on my vector." The McCloud seemed less sure of her diagnosis than her radar. "But something feels off."

"We'll keep our eyes peeled, Terrany. Form on my wing, we'll track the signal."

The three forward Arwings regrouped and shot on ahead, closing the gap on the emergency beacon's signal in record time. When they hit the inner operations area, Terrany launched her own Godsight Pods, and Rourke set them to disperse. The eight camera and communications devices formed a loose web around them, increasing the range of their secure optical transmissions.

Terrany was the first to locate the source. As she closed in on it, she eased off the thrusters and coasted in closer, firing the retros to slow down. She let out a held breath and shook her head. "It's an Arwing." One badly damaged, though. The starboard wing was in interceptor mode, but the port wing was unfolded in Merge configuration, and by the scorch marks on it, had been critically damaged. "It has to be Carl's. It's a Seraph. It took a hell of a beating. I'm getting almost no power readings from it. Everything is shut down." She inverted her Arwing above the damaged one and stared down at the cockpit, surprised to see nothing but a thick blue foam inside of it. "What the…the entire cockpit's filled with some kind of blue junk!"

_"Say again? Blue junk?"_ Fat Duck called back.

"Yeah. Is that some kind of a safety feature on the Seraph?"

"No. No, we just have the standard ejection cockpit pod." Dana said. "I know these Seraphs almost as well as Wyatt does, and there's no 'blue junk' anywhere in the ship's systems."

_"I hate to hack the frequency here, but you're wrong, Dana." _KIT cut into the chatter, using Terrany's transceiver. _"There is blue junk in these Seraphs. It's not a safety feature, though. What got pumped into the cockpit is most likely Diketrous Anhydrazine…the coolant used by our thrusters. It has a particular blue sheen. In its compressed state, it's a supercondensed gas. Expose it to air, though…"_

"Wait a second." Rourke said. "Why would there be thruster coolant inside Carl's cockpit? How would it get there, even?"

"I know the answer to that." Dana said quietly. "In early development, Diketrous was proposed for use in cryonics. Its properties showed a high probability of minimalizing tissue damage, but it never went to animal trials. I think that his ODAI froze him up."

"Something it wouldn't have done unless there was no other choice." Terrany realized. She tapped a finger on the side of her control stick. "_Fat Duck_, you have a medical crew on board?"

_"That's affirmative. We'll be standing by for recovery procedures, but if Captain McCloud is in cryo-stasis, we'll have to keep him on ice until we return to base. Our doctor is telling us if we unfreeze him the wrong way, he won't wake up at all."_

"Roger that." Rourke and Dana reached the recovery zone and began to circle above Terrany and her brother's crippled Arwing. The flight lead of Starfox maintained a professional tone, in spite of the circumstances. "Captain Hound, we have Skip protected. Bring _Fat Duck_ in."

_"That's what we're doing already, lieutenant." _

Terrany used her maneuvering thrusters to turn her Seraph right-side up again, and started to look around again. That feeling she'd had when they first arrived hadn't gone away.

It was getting stronger.

* * *

_Phoenix Squadron_

The first sign of company came from a series of radar sweeps that crossed over their spacefighters. The alert software reported the high-energy microwave bombardment with a chirp, stirring the pilots from their tedium. Saber, or Phoenix 2, slapped the monitor on reflex to check the source. He released his panic when the ship reported that the Phoenix's unique electronics suite had read the radar beams and sent back a neutralizing return that made them look like small bits of asteroidal debris.

"Thank the Lord of Flames." He uttered, a remark only he heard with their transmitters turned off. He brought up the damaged bait Arwing on his scope and put the cameras on maximum magnification. One Arwing was holding position nearby, perhaps to get a visual inspection of the ship up-close. The others, as he panned about, were closing in…a group of three more Arwings were clustered around a larger ship, some kind of transport perhaps. So that meant they had brought a ship to salvage their crippled comrade's vessel.

Something was off about this, though. Lashal frowned and checked his radio. He confirmed it was set to intercept enemy transmissions, and their fighters carried the latest encryptions used by the Cornerians, the same ones used at the Battle of Darussia. Had they been talking to each other, he would have been able to hear them as clear as day. And they should have been talking. Their movements were too coordinated, too precise for them to be flying without a minimum of discussion. So that meant that somehow, they were speaking through a method that was unknown to Command.

It had been like that at Darussia as well, Lashal remembered. Initial after-action data had indicated a tremendous level of coordination from Starfox and its assisting Arwings, with no evidence of chatter to explain it.

"What kind of trick are you all using?" Lashal asked the enemy Arwings. He glanced outside of his cockpit, looking over to where Telemos, his captain and his friend, was watching from his own fighter.

The running lights of the Phoenix, rows of light-emitting diodes underneath the red stripes along the spacefighter's skin, lit up, dimmed, and lit up for a longer period before going dark again. That double flash of the dim, blood-red running lights was a pre-arranged signal.

Lashal reached down and switched his radio to ACTIVE, then slowly brought his main systems online. As another predecided measure, he kept his attack radar off and engaged the reserve capacitors to his six secondary lasers; four original to the ship's design, and two more installed at Telemos' urging on the underside of their noses. The main laser cannon strapped underneath the fuselage, with its firing port looming out menacingly between the forward forks of the ship's nose, remained silent. Saber had to admit he enjoyed the elegance of design and functionality that the Phoenix spacefighter provided. It could be stealthy beyond compare, and Telemos was opting for stealth and surprise over raw power and presence.

For now.

"Three, four, large target. Two, with me." Telemos' voice crackled over the radio softly. In the silence they had endured, it thundered regardless.

Their attack orders assigned, the four members of Phoenix Squadron engaged their thrusters at half-power and slid through the void…towards a battle that they had waited two weeks to finish.

* * *

There had been no sign of unfriendly forces in the vicinity. Radar sweeps had been negative, infrared scanning had shown only the starfield. There was no reason, no evidence to support Terrany's discomfort.

She listened to it regardless.

The Albatross and the 21st Squadron were quickly closing in on her brother's lifeless Arwing. They were all on edge, but there was no hint of panic or paranoia in their flight pattern. Similarly, Rourke and Dana circled their crippled Arwing in almost casual loops. Only Terrany, listening to some lingering doubt, refused to relax. She brought her thrusters out of idle and broke away from her brother's ship. She flew towards the gap between the closing Albatross and the recovery zone, and charged up a homing laserburst.

_"Hey kid, what's up?" _KIT asked her. _"You're really jumpy."_

"Something's wrong." Terrany answered, scanning the darkness of space for a flicker of something she couldn't put words to. "This doesn't feel right."

_"We didn't pick up any hostiles. No one is out here."_

"Falco, you trust your instincts, right?"

_"Yeah. That old rabbit drilled it into our heads enough."_

"I'm asking you to trust mine." She angled her nose up. "Use the ambient light from this shot to check out surroundings.

_"Roger."_ KIT responded. Terrany blind-fired a laserburst overhead, and it detonated in a brilliant wash of heat and green light.

The momentary brilliance lit up the empty space around them, and KIT wordlessly cycled through every angle and feed the linked Godsight Pods provided. The AI let out an audible gasp as he pulled one image up on the canopy's HUD: Four void-black silhouettes, in formation, descending down on them. The laserburst had caused light to barely reflect off their leading edges.

Terrany clenched her teeth and hit the boosters, soaring to meet them head-on. "Incoming! Four bogeys not on radar! Bogeys are black and stealthed. Repeat, _stealth!_"

It would have been impossible for the enemy ships to hear her warning, but they seemed to react as the light died off and Terrany rushed them. They had been discovered.

The four ships became almost invisible again, and Terrany lost sight of them as the darkness of space closed in.

_"Where are they?!"_ Wallaby Preen cried out over their channel. _"I can't see anything!"_

_"Shut up and circle Fat Duck!" _Captain Hound ordered. _"We have to protect it!"_

"Hang on, Terrany, we're coming!" Rourke called out to her, and his Seraph turned to follow her.

"You stay with my brother, Rourke! Follow the mission!" Terrany snapped back at him. She barely got the sentence out when two shimmers of movement in the darkness of space blasted by either side of her, diving for the Albatross transport.

She reacted to the move by spiraling into an aileron roll to give her time enough to think. That was two of them. Which meant there were still two more out here someplace…

A sudden barrage of six independent streams of laserbolts screamed from her left side, catching her just as she pulled out of the roll. Her shields flared in protest, and Terrany swore, spinning up and punching her thrusters to get clear of the line of fire. "Damn! Where'd he come from?!"

_"I can't get a fix!" _KIT frantically said. _"I had one, but soon as he stopped firing, I lost track of him! Damn, who are these guys?!"_

"You think I know?" Terrany demanded. "Keep on it! If we can't find them by radar, use the thermals! They've got to be leaving a trail of thruster wash you can follow!"

A second strafing run caught her from below; the second of the unaccounted for pair, most likely. The Arwing shuddered as the shields flared up around it.

Terrany let out another very unladylike word. "Frigging Lylus, who the hell packs six laser cannons?!"

_"Whoever these punks are, that's for sure. Shields are at 90 percent. Try not to get hit again!"_

Terrany growled angrily and threw the Seraph into a high loop, using the maneuver to look back behind her tail. She thought she caught sight of a bit of movement, a hint of thrusters, but then whatever it was spun at a new angle, and the skies went dark again. She pulled down out of the loop, and a twitch of instinct caused her to spin into an aileron roll just as she leveled out. The move spared her another battering, and a stream of red laserbolts from port were deflected away harmlessly. Terrany banked hard left and started firing blue hyperlasers along the same attack angle. She only grazed the ship responsible before it dove away, vanishing again.

"I'm getting sick of these clowns." Terrany snapped, activating her microphone. "All ships, these guys are playing too damn well in the dark. _Fat Duck_, you carrying any area flares?"

_"Bet your ass we are."_

"Fire all of them! We need to even the field!"

* * *

The large transport, still on its way to intercept the crippled Seraph Arwing, released one brilliant strobe flare after another. Unlike chemical flares which required an oxygen supply, the strobe flare used small battery cells to power brilliant luminescent bulbs which made up the bulk of the small items. Though they didn't match the heat signatures of ships, most Lylatian spaceborne weapons systems relied on visual sensors, due to the wild fluctuation of temperature that space around their binary star system had. Whether or not Primal weapons used visual sensors as well, the benefit that Terrany was counting on was that a ship the size of an Albatross was required to carry substantial numbers of weapons-defeating systems, in both flares and the more effective chaff packs.

Rear access panels on _Fat Duck_ slid open to reveal large, double-door sized compartments recessed in the hull. The top sections of both were filled with red packets, spread in a hexagonal honeycomb alignment; the bottom sections held grayish packs of the same shape.

Dozens of red strobe flare packets were fired out behind the ship, their pressurized nitrogen and oxygen thrusters sending them behind and away from the Albatross at all angles. As soon as they cleared the wake of the ship's engines, they activated, thrumming to life with a combined candlepower in the millions. As the ship flew on and fired off more, the cloud of lights grew even larger and wider in shape. They shattered the darkness of deep space, and allowed the visual sensors of the Arwings to finally register movement. Just as Terrany had predicted, the ships they were flying against were sleek, streamlined, and built for stealth. Even with the lights, their dark black paint schemes made them blend into the vastness of space.

Two of the ships were making a pass at the Albatross transport. The Arwings on station around it reacted, turning up and around and filling the sky with blue hyper laserfire. The sudden strafing forced the enemy ships to break off their attack run, and the obsidian ships jinked out of harm's way, retreating. The Arwings and the black diamondlike craft settled into position after the failed surprise attack.

Finally, the radios on the Arwings crackled to life as an unencrypted signal broke the silence.

_"This time, Starfox, you lose."_

* * *

Those dark and angry words, thick with the promise of pain and retribution, chilled the heart of every pilot. Only one recognized the voice with some trace of errant familiarity. A willowing trailer of dust out of the past flowed by her nose, and Terrany went rigid. She knew this voice. She knew this Primal. But that was ridiculous. She had fought hundreds of Primals. Killed hundreds of them, heard their death screams over the radio, seen them disintegrate along with their ships. To remember one single Primal, even with only the dark recesses of her mind, was ridiculous.

But it was him.

A stuttering breath found its way into her lungs, and Terrany watched her finger reach to the control panel on her ship, accessing the communications. A single button press disconnected her from the optical interlinks and brought her subspace radio transceiver back online. Her lips parted, and hollow words left her lips.

"Telemos?"

* * *

All at once, Captain Telemos found himself wanting to scream in exultation. She _remembered him._ And well she should, the bitch. She had taken everything from him that had ever mattered and left him raw. All he had now was half a name, command of his fellow disgraced pilots, and an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Three ships hovered around the transport set to recover their forgotten Arwing. Two more around the crippled fighter. Only one ship hovered separate from the two points of defense, and thanks to her call, he knew who was flying it.

Terrany Anne McCloud. The Pale Demon.

"You remember me, Pale Demon. I am honored." He replied, his voice thick with sarcasm.

_"I remember I spared your life the last time we met, Telemos Fendhausen."_

"NO!" He snarled, instantly silencing her. "No, not Fendhausen! You took that from me when you let me live in dishonor. Now I am simply Telemos, your retribution, your fate."

_"Others have tried, believe me. So what are you and your friends supposed to be? Another elite squadron of Primal fighter pilots sent to tussle it up with us?"_

"Heh!" Telemos found himself grinning now. Oh, she was possessed of a fiery spirit. Had she only been born a Primal instead of a Cornerian. "I did not come here to mince words, Demon. I came here to fight."

_"You want a fight, Telemos?" _Terrany's voice responded, fast and angry. He paused, for a chance began to overtake her Arwing. The wings of that silvery blue ship unfolded, splitting apart into a six-winged configuration. The blue struts that attached the wings to the fuselage drew and quartered themselves into a separated diamond shape.

When Terrany spoke again, her voice echoed with new power.

_**"You've got one."**_

Telemos felt a shiver run through him. Reports had mentioned that the Arwings gained remarkable powers when they unfolded their wings. There would be no holding back. The Pale Demon meant to face him with everything she had.

Far be it from him to disappoint her.

"Phoenix 2, link up with 3 and 4 and focus on the Arwings protecting the cripple." Telemos ordered.

Saber was surprised at the command. "But sir, we do not break off from our wingmen!"

"You do as I command, 2." Telemos growled. "Break off. I will face this McCloud alone. Without her, you will stand a chance against the others. She is their wild card, and I'm taking it off the table!"

"And what if you lose?"

Telemos started to build a charge in the Phoenix's main cannon, watching it grow between the forks of his ship's nose. "I won't."

* * *

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

With the new spy satellite network up and running, General Kagan's staff of information specialists had a wealth of resources at their disposal that they had lacked so far in the war. More than one satellite was permanently turned with its optics and radio intercept antennae towards Venom, the Primal's stronghold in Lylat. Of all the things they paid attention to, one was the massive spaceship being slowly unearthed. Swarms of Primal personnel and equipment had been dancing across its surface since they got their first glimpse of it from the Godsight Pod feeds during Starfox's raid on Venom's secondary command center.

The technician assigned to that sector of Venom rubbed at his eyes, then looked again. The image was different than before, and it took him a moment to realize why.

The saucer-shaped supership wasn't on the ground anymore. He took a screenshot of the image, then lifted his head up. "Maurice?"

Maurice, a solid gray raccoon that acted as the shift supervisor, came over. "What do you have, Petey?"

The technician enlarged the image for Maurice. "The Primal saucer they've been digging out of the ground? It's airborne now."

Maurice stared for a few moments, forcing himself to remember to breathe. "We'd better get the general."

* * *

_Beyond the Rim of Lylat_

Phoenix 2, 3, and 4 linked up above the Albatross and its defenders, with Saber taking point at the formation.

"Our captain is facing the Pale Demon. This is our chance to put an end to their rescue efforts." Lashal told his wingmates.

Nome, or Phoenix 3, was dubious. "We aren't targeting the Arwings?"

"The Arwings seem to be playing a defensive strategy at the moment." Saber muttered. "If we aim for their charges, they'll have no choice but to intercept us. Bring all your weapons online, and lock onto that transport. I want a volley launch."

The main cannons of their ships began to glow as they built up a devastating charge shot, but the more immediate threat came from their radar systems. The Albatross transport made for an easy target, and the hatches covering the missile bays inside their ships slid open.

Lashal pulled the trigger, and pulled, and pulled again, releasing eight NIFT-29 Corona missiles in total. It was a ludicrous number, but they had plenty of missiles to spare, thanks to the Phoenix's spacefolding technology. Phoenix 3 and 4 mirrored his attack, and a total salvo of twenty-four ship-destroying projectiles screamed into the void, burning hotly on their rocket motors.

Phoenix Squadron slipped in behind their opening attack, their noses aglow with angry laserlight.

"Missile launch! God-_damn_, how many shots are these bastards packing?!" Damer chittered.

Captain Hound wasn't about to waste time thinking that over. "Damer, Wally, bomb suppression!"

The two Model K Arwings and the Seraph of the 21st Squadron nosed up towards the inbounds and launched a trio of Cornite smart bombs. On proximity fuse, the glowing projectiles drew within range of the swarm of missiles and detonated. The resulting spherical bursts of red light engulfed the Primal attack and incinerated the warshots, cancelling the missile warning alarm aboard the transport.

Any relief that they might have felt vanished when three blistering beams of laserlight broke through the fading cloud of radiation. Captain Hound and Damer barely pulled clear of the sudden attack, realizing too late that the beams, not meant for them at all, were peeling away the deflector shields of the Albatross transport. Wallaby, capable but not quite as instinctive as his squadmates, took the half-second blast of the third beam full-on.

"Gah!" Wallaby bounced around wildly inside of his Seraph as it shuddered. His monitor bleated angrily, and the shield gauge dropped a full 25 percent. "Son of a…what the heck was that?!"

"Trouble!" Captain Hound clicked his mike. "Rourke, Dana, a little help here?!"

* * *

For Rourke, it was all spinning out of control. Terrany had wanted him and Dana to stay with her brother, to make sure that the Primals didn't target him. But that wasn't their objective, and he realized it later than he should have. The cryogenically frozen form of Commander Carl McCloud was just bait: Their squadron was the real target. They had moved on _Fat Duck_ with a missile screen, and then used the resulting wash of light and radiation from the detonation of the smart bombs to land a devastating sneak attack from charged laserbeams. Not bursts. Beams.

"We walked right into a trap." Rourke said to Dana over Starfox's personal channel. "I can't believe I didn't see it coming."

"Terrany did. Or she sensed it. I dunno." Dana added. "So what's the plan?"

Rourke clenched his teeth together and flexed his claws on the control stick. "We fight, what else? And if they really want a fight, we'll give it to them."

"You mean…"

"Yeah." Rourke closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the momentary crackle of power along his head.

His Seraph Arwing unfolded as he entered into Merge Mode, and shot ahead, ignorant of inertia and the laws of physics. When gravity was at your command, few of them still applied.

* * *

Phoenix 2 swept in on the wounded transport, peppering the ship with laserfire from his six linked blasters. The three Arwings that had been protecting it swooped in to cut the attack off, but Phoenix 3 and 4 were on them in an instant, firing a steady burst to cut off their advance. The Arwings swung clear of the immediate danger and tried to angle back in: Staying close together, Nome and Flint stuck doggedly to a single target instead of splitting apart. The Arwing pilots, for all their so-called prowess, had a reputation for being loose cannons. At least, that was the judgment of Captain Telemos. In a pinch, they would try to face every threat on their own. Moving as a team meant a higher chance of success.

Strange that Phoenix 1 would ignore his own warnings to go solo with the Pale Demon. Or not so strange, Saber reminded himself. He, more than anyone else, knew how far gone his mentor was.

His alert software suddenly blared at him, warning of target lock. He swiveled his head around, trying to determine the source; a pair of silvery aircraft, their wings unfolded, were pursuing him. Beads of angry light glowed from their noses and across the central wingspan, five on each. The ships fired, and ten glowing spheres of white laserlight screamed towards him.

"Blasted Arwings!" Saber snarled, throwing his Phoenix into an evasive retreat away from the inbounds. The darts pursued him through the turn, and followed his course through every jink and swivel. Conserving their momentum, the blasts made minor adjustments, refusing to take the bait of swinging wildly to pursue and losing target lock. Growing desperate, he reached for a crazy idea, and threw himself towards the three defending Arwings his squadmates were chasing after.

"Three, four, I'm coming your way with company on my heels. Get ready for a staredown!"

Saber intended to swing about so the blasts following his thruster wake would strike at the Arwings being pushed by Nome and Flint. The transformed Arwings following him realized the intent of his maneuver as the Phoenix spacefighters lined up towards one another; the salvo of homing laserbursts detonated prematurely, rattling his ship slightly.

Chuckling, Saber sent out a hard salvo of strafing shots towards the normal looking Arwings ahead of him, forcing them to pull evasive and into the waiting gunsights of his two wingmen. That was all he had time for before his own pursuers were breathing down his neck again. He pulled hard left, intending to swing about them.

Instead, they defied all physics by veering into his path, not once altering their orientation. It was as though the ships themselves had learned to sidestep. In a panic, Saber reached for the one button by his thruster controls he had hoped never to implement. The Arwings fired at him. It became a race to see which was faster…their lasers or his finger.

* * *

Phoenix 3 and 4 had their own targets; even had they known that Saber was in trouble, they couldn't have reacted fast enough to do anything about it. The quick maneuver by Phoenix 2 had put their target Arwings on the defensive and forced them right into their gunsights. Foregoing missile lock, they opened up with their lasers and started to charge their main cannon for the killstroke. The Arwing pilots maneuvered their spacefighters wildly, trying to throw them off. The nimble Phoenix spacefighter easily kept pace with them, especially with its wings unfolded forwards and out like prying jaws. Even without the effect of atmospheric dissipation, the dampening fields performed better in the maneuvering position.

"Let's make short work of these regular Arwings." Phoenix 3 advised his wingman.

"Lead the way then, Nome." Phoenix 4 readily agreed. The two Primals kept doggedly on their targets, and remained together even when two of them broke off. They stayed on one Arwing, and Phoenix 4 used small bursts of his own secondary lasers to box the Arwing in. All the while, Phoenix 3 charged up his main cannon, keeping pace with his prey.

Dogfighting was an art, no matter what the mobile infantry sarcastically thought of it. By watching an opponent's nose and fuselage, by refusing to focus solely on the glow of their thrusters, a pursuing pilot could gain an unmistakable advantage over his foes. It was a skill that the rookie pilots of the Armada called "pilot prescience" as it seemed to have an almost psychic connotation. Nomen Friedrich knew better, though. It was a skill like any other. Those who learned it stood a better chance of survival. Those who didn't were irrelevant.

The Arwing he was chasing down jinked high and right. Nome followed it, waiting for his main cannon to finish charging. Vodari, his wingman, fired off a staccato burst, forcing the defensive Arwing to jerk hard down and right.

Directly in line with Nome's gunsights. The Primal heard the whine of his main cannon and felt it vibrate through the hull of the Phoenix. He released the firing trigger, unleashing the beam, and it struck true against the rear of the Arwing's fuselage. The shields flared in protest, but the proximity of the shot, how well aimed it had been, and the effect of the silver blue ship's own thrusters against its rear screens all took their toll. The beam burned a hole through the ship's shielding and caused the metal on the Arwing's stern to warp and discolor. One of its thrusters sputtered and gave out from the blow, then started to leak a fluid that crystallized in the vacuum of space.

Nome allowed himself a small chuckle. "Got you." On instinct, he broke off from his target, and Flint followed him.

Two pairs of blue hyper laser streams seared by them a quarter second later.

"They thought to come around and defend their friend." Flint observed coldly.

"Congratulate our speed of operations later. We've partially disabled one ship, but we still have two others to deal with." Nome grumped in reply. "Take the lead, four."

"Phoenix 4 has the lead." Flint replied, hitting his boosters and starting his turn in on the two pursuing Arwings.

* * *

"Damn! Damn, damn, DAMN!" Damer Ostwind pounded a fist into his leg angrily, trying not to breathe in the acrid smoke and burning ozone that had flooded his cockpit. The atmospheric scrubbers were already hard at work clearing the air, but the damage was done. Those two Primal pilots had played him like a piano. Wallaby and the Captain had tried to disengage and swing around to knock them both off his ass, but they'd arrived too late. The lead ship had managed to land a solid blow on his ass with that massive cannon suspended underneath its fuselage. It had fried his rear shields and baked one of his four thrusters into slag. The thing would need a complete overhaul back at base before it could fire safely again. It was an ominous note in this messed up dogfight. With one of his port thrusters down, his maneuverability was significantly curtailed in right turns. Had it happened to one of the Seraph Arwings, like the one Wallaby was piloting, they could have just dropped into Merge Mode and used the G-Negator Drive to fly without the use of thrusters.

On the Model K, that wasn't an option. He had one choice, and the squirrel hated it. Letting out an angry grunt, he punched his helmet squawk button.

"All planes, this is Damer. I've taken significant engine damage, and maneuverability is shot to oblivion. I'm going to have to bug out."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that." Captain Hound said bitterly. "Retreat to the edge of the operational area. Don't give these bastards an easy target!"

"Roger." Damer clicked his mike off and swung his ship into a hard left turn. He hit the boosters on his remaining engines and made hard to escape the furball. The ship rattled as his one lone port engine struggled to match the output of his starboard thrusters. Swearing, he cut power to the dead engine's opposite, and the Arwing settled back down again. "Don't you fall apart on me now, you sorry bitch." He warned his ship.

* * *

Saber punched the Ghost Drive trigger and felt everything go fuzzy. A sweeping wave of disorientation and nausea passed over him as the entire world seemed to fold up around him, crumple into a ball, and then uncrumple again, dumping him and his ship in a completely different spot. Fighting off the urge to vomit, he swept his eyes around in search of where the space-folding technology had dumped him. He found himself two kilometers away from his point of departure, watching the transformed Arwings firing at the spot he had been before.

"Flames, I hate this thing." He grimaced. The Arwings swiveled about, searching for their target. He likely had very little time at all before they found him. Lashal wasted no time at all. He locked on to the both of them and punched his missile trigger as fast as he could, pumping out one NIFT-29 Corona after another. The projectiles belched out of his ship's extradimensional storage bays and screamed off at the Arwings.

The Arwings reacted quickly, spinning around as though a divine hand had them in their grip. The power of these Arwings…it made Lashal dry swallow. What manner of madness guided these pilots? Their reaction times were obscene. It was like they were in a completely different temporal phase. He punched off more missiles and kept his distance. He had seen their maneuverability once already. He had no desire to repeat that act, especially since he had scraped out of it by fractions of a second.

His missiles closed in on them. The two Arwings fired precise volleys from their lasers. Not the blue lasers, though…the ones that fired were hidden within the blue pods that acted as their wing struts, revealed now that the pods had opened up just like their wings.

An idea came to him, and Lashal clicked his radio. "Phoenix 2 to all planes. These transformed Arwings…those blue pods on their wings seem to be a critical system. Try to aim for them!"

He received several clicks in response, all the answer he would get with his three squadmates embroiled in their own duels.

To Saber's dismay, the two Arwings downed every last one of his Corona missiles. That sealed it for him. No pilot could be so precise with their guns. Absolutely not. They had to be using help. Augmentations, perhaps? The Primals had fought against foes who used cybernetic implants before in the long journey across the cosmos to their homeworld. Maybe these Cornerians were doing something similar.

But that didn't seem likely, either. In the after-action report of Tinder Squadron's defeat on Venom, Telemos had given a very thorough description of the Pale Demon, as they had been canopy to canopy for a time. There had been no wires sticking into her head, no artificial eye or eyepiece; just an ornate helmet that let her headfur and ears stick out comfortably.

Were their planes equipped with tracking systems so advanced that they could fire down missiles? Was it some kind of an automatic defense measure, and the Arwing handled its defense automatically? Saber had to remind himself that these transformed Arwings were different than the "Regular" ones other Primal units had flown against. The Cornerians called these ones Seraphs. If they could only take one down and capture the plane relatively intact, then the Armada would be able to learn everything they needed to put down the Cornerian resistance like the mongrels they all were.

The distance between their planes and his gave him a moment longer to contemplate the odds, even as they started to coast towards him without the use of any thrust mechanism whatsoever.

In maneuverability, they had him beat. In firepower, it was likely a draw. His stealth, while potent, was now partially negated because of all those damned light strobes floating around the transport ship. Their brilliant luminescence cut through the darkness of space that the Phoenix spacefighter was designed to sink into. The lack of a radar signature meant little to them: The Arwing pilots seemed perfectly capable of fighting in the absence of it, relying on visuals alone. In that respect, his missile barrage was likely an error. Had he not fired and triggered their alert systems with his inbounds, he might have had enough time to make a run on them.

And there lay his answer. He was fighting these Arwings on their terms, in _their_ kind of a battle. Their transformed ships were near unbeatable in a dogfight. Perhaps one on one, he might stand a chance. Two to one odds? He was digging his own grave. The Phoenix, while a supremely capable dogfighter, was built for stealth and sneak attacks.

The words of Captain Telemos, back when they had both still been members of Tinder Squadron, came to him. _**Fly your ship the way it was meant to be flown. Use your strengths, and avoid theirs.**_

He looked down to his controls. The switch for the Ghost Drive stared up at him, tantalizingly promising victory. He set his jaw. It was his one wild card. The Arwings couldn't track the wild jump. Telemos had the most control over it, having used it while Lashal and the others had refrained. But he'd given his wingmen some hint of how to best utilize it. In standard configuration, the Ghost Drive charted the optimum position for re-entry. Telemos had since diverted his own to manual, trusting his own targeting above the computer's.

Lashal hated the Ghost Drive. He hated watching Telemos use the still untested technology. He hated how it felt when _he_ used it.

None of that mattered. His systems warned that the Arwings had painted him with their targeting arrays.

"To Hell with you both." He spat out, and punched the switch. The world went crumpled again, and a moment later, he was staring at the rear ends of his foes instead of their noses. Lashal fired again, linking his six secondary lasers to his main cannon. The manually aimed shots raked across their engines. One of them turned hard, nearly pivoting on an invisible gyroscopic axis to bring their own guns to bear. That exposed their port blue wing pylon to his weapons fire, right when the full force of it was focused in on one spot. It shrank the shielding around the ship and exposed a chip of the unfolded blue pod to Lashal's laserfire. One lucky blow tore the piece clean off its mount in a shower of sparks.

The wounded Arwing careened wildly away from him, and its wings quickly folded back in. In spite of his nausea, Lashal allowed himself a smile. It wasn't a kill, yet, but he had proven something to himself, and to the others. He triggered his microphone again.

"Phoenix 2. Confirmed on those blue wing struts, they're a high value target. These Starfox pilots aren't invincible."

The clicks came more enthusiastically this time.

* * *

The Primal ship's unique ability to disappear and reappear seemingly at random had been a wild card that they hadn't expected. Dana felt she should have expected it anyhow. They had fought Primal vessels with wildly unique weapons systems before: The orbital defense platform on Darussia, that massive Armada mothership that fired off enormous wave-attuned energy beams, that attack carrier on Corneria…the Primals had made a tradition of employing ridiculously powerful tricks.

But Dana was tired, as tired as any of them. The war hadn't been going for long, but every day was a new mission, a new trial. The last break had happened, briefly, when the _Wild Fox_ had been grounded on Katina. That seemed so long ago. Even in Merge Mode, her response times were sluggish. When the Primal she and Rourke had been following suddenly vanished out of their gunsights, Dana had taken a moment of congress to get her bearing, glancing around through her own eyes, the cameras on the Seraph, and finally the Godsight Pods after remembering they were providing their own visual feeds.

She still only noticed the Phoenix when it ripple-fired a pack of shield-punching missiles at her and Rourke. They dispatched the inbounds and made for the ship responsible, only to have it shimmer and disappear a second time.

It had started firing one millisecond after Dana had noticed it was right behind her. She had swiveled the Seraph around, intent on meeting it guns to guns, but the sheer volume of firepower it laid down cut through her shields even as she tried to go evasive. Bit by bit, her protective barrier thinned out, allowing just enough room around her port G-Negator for one lucky shot to hit home.

One lucky shot. The damage to the G-Negator was direct, abrupt, and catastrophic. She found herself being forcibly kicked out of Merge Mode, dropped back into her body so suddenly that she strained against her harness from the shock of it. Her damaged Arwing spun out of control, and her ODAI rattled off the obvious.

**"Port G-Negator Unit severely damaged. Merge Mode offline. Nova lasers offline. G-Diffuser field at 54 percent effectiveness. Standard thrust engaged."**

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know!" Dana snapped back at her machine. She fought the dizzying spin and pulled the Arwing out of the death spiral, instantly feeling how much more sluggish the ship was. "Damn."

_**"Dana? You all right?"**_ The voice of Rourke came over the radio, his worry muted by the monotone aura that Merge Mode seemed to inflict on its pilots.

"I've got to fall back, Rourke." The tigress told him testily. "This ship can't keep up with these new Primal fighters as wrecked as it is."

_**"Hit your boosters and go, I'll cover you." **_Rourke ordered. _**"Damer's out of the fight, too. Link up with him and keep each other covered."**_

"Roger." Dana aimed the nose of her craft away from the combat and punched the throttle. "You'd better save him, Rourke."

_**"We have to save ourselves first."**_

That was a painful truth, Dana thought to herself. They were two planes down in a fight where they had to keep two separate targets covered from fighters that were arguably on par with the Seraph Arwing. It was a four on four fight.

They were losing.

* * *

_Albatross Transport "Fat Duck"_

Though it was mainly Project Seraphim staff on board the _Fat Duck_, the doctor on board the cumbersome transport was not. With Dr. Bushtail even more exhausted than the pilots, General Grey had opted to bother the base CO for some of his medical personnel. The response had been for the temporary reassignment of Dr. Simon Billburn and three corpsmen to the task force.

Dr. Billburn had never hated flying in space so much as he did now. The mallard clung to his seat harness for dear life, silently cursing his superior for putting him on this suicide run. What made it worse was the callsign they'd given the transport for this mission. Though it was coincidence, and more likely due to the fact it was an _Albatross_ class transport, Dr. Billburn couldn't shake the feeling the name "Fat Duck" was a dig against him.

It had started out smooth enough, and then suddenly they were thrust into a combat situation, with enemy fighters raining down lasery death. The Albatross had shuddered and bucked wildly from the hits. It still did from time to time: The pilots had gotten very tense very quickly, offering no words to the doctor, the corpsmen, and the Project Seraphim recovery team aside from a barking order to keep strapped in and to shut up.

"We're all going to die out here." Dr. Billburn honked, wondering if his green feathers were losing their color from the shock of everything.

"Nah, don't worry, doc." One of the engineers along for the ride said with a relaxed smile. "These Albatross transports may be big, slow, and a bitch to maneuver, but they can take one hell of a pounding."

Another wild strafing barrage struck the transport along its dorsal deflector shielding, and Dr. Billburn swore he heard dents being pounded into the metal of the ship's hull.

"How much of a pounding?" He shakily asked.

A little chastened after the most recent enemy attack, the engineer squinted his face up. "I guess we're gonna find out."

"All right, boys, get your shit together and get ready!" The co-pilot called back over his shoulder to the passenger compartment through the cockpit entryway. "We're coming up on the target ship right now, and this is going to be one messy recovery!"

* * *

With Damer out of the fight, Captain Hound and Wallaby Preen were locked in a 2 on 2 engagement with the Primal fighters that were still fixated on the transport. And now over the radio, they'd heard that Dana Tiger had been put out of commission as well, and was limping away from the furball as fast as she could go.

"Kid, if you were planning on pulling any fancy moves outta your ass, this would be the time to do it!" Hound gruffly barked to his companion.

"Cap'n, I'm…I can't Merge like this!" Wallaby called back in a panicky voice. He was trying to circle in on his own Primal starfighter, but in normal flight mode, their maneuverability was about on par, and the enemy fighter was throwing off his chase by sticking to one tight turn, only to reverse it and then spin in a different direction along a different axis. "I can't think straight, and if I can't think straight, I can't Merge!"

"Bullshit, rookie!" Hound snarled over the line. "What do I tell you? You overthink, you die. Don't think about Merging, or not Merging. Just fragging do it!"

That much was true: Hound trained his pilots relentlessly. In many ways, he was a better teacher than he was a fighter jock, a rare trait among Arwing pilots especially. He taught them the mechanics and ACM thoroughly, and then drilled them on it until they stopped thinking about it and just performed on instinct. Wallaby recalled that, and then a flash of insight hit him.

He was tackling Merging like it was something different, and that was choking him up. Maybe he needed to fall back on his old perspective. Wallaby let go of his fears, he stopped worrying about Merging, and he let instinct take over.

It wasn't that he wanted to Merge, or that he needed to Merge: He just let it happen. The world exploded inside his mind again, and he felt the Seraph respond.

His ship's wings unfolded, the diamond-shaped G-Negator pods opened and quartered themselves to reveal the Nova laser gunports within. Most importantly, he felt the neutral buoyancy of gravity's absence swallow him and his ship.

Cocooned within that bubble of null gravity, Wallaby felt the world slow down. Suddenly the movements of the Primal fighter in front of him weren't wild and erratic: They were eerily predictable and easy to follow. He could tell by the dip and sway of its nose, the flex of its three vector-thrust engines, which way it was turning. His Seraph tracked the movement and aimed ahead of its path, and he fired a blistering salvo of white-hot laserbolts.

They stippled along the sleek spacecraft's shields and caught its pilot by complete surprise. The Primal spacefighter shuddered, then veered off and began to shimmer. Wallaby fired on it again, but to his surprise, the Primal craft went translucent, and his shots passed harmlessly through it. The ship seemed to dissipate into nothingness and vanished from his scopes.

He accessed the Godsight Pod relays; the other ships had done this stunt, too, he learned. If this one running away from him acted like the others, it would reappear somewhere else and try to fly in on him again, using its stealth and speed to catch him by surprise. So the question he and his still adapting ODAI counterpart puzzled over in the span of a few long milliseconds was, where would it reappear?

His ODAI plotted several possible vectors the Primal ship might use to ambush them: A quick looping scan of the GSP array around their battlefield augmented the Seraph's own more limited cameras, and Wallaby's face twitched with the beginnings of a frown that wouldn't take shape until he was already on his fourteenth computation.

The Primal ships' unique cross-section, its dark black hull, and its radar-eluding capabilities made it near impossible to detect beyond close visual range. It was like looking for a distortion in space, rather than the vessel itself, and that was a tall order even under less trying circumstances. But then, Wallaby suddenly had the time to puzzle it out. As he was learning, while you were Merged, the Arwing still had a limitation on the speed of its movements…

Thought, and the processing of commands, was much less confining.

Keeping his Seraph in a lazy tumbling spin that would allow him to turn to whatever direction the Primal flew on him from, Wallaby scoured the darkness of space for a telltale flicker; not of light, not of a thermal reading, not even of electromagnetic emissions…like a fighter surrounded in a dark alley who relied on his peripheral vision, he didn't look for the ship. He looked for the tiny flickers of movement, the subtle distortion of the universe around him.

In what was an agonizingly long span of time in Merge Mode, a full fifteen seconds without putting his Arwing through a new maneuver, Wallaby watched and waited, and his patience paid off. Eight o'clock low. The Primal was coming behind and beneath him. No target lock, no scanning radars to alert him: Just the deadly silence of a strafing pass.

The airman waited, letting the Primal come closer, letting his enemy become overconfident. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment, and…

_**There**_. The Primal fired, his six-gun laser array belching out a wash of fire while his main cannon gushed a more condensed blast of particles. Wallaby spun his ship out of the way, turned his nose about as part of the flip, and fired even as he pirouetted to safety.

The Primal spacefighter was caught unawares by the riposte, and a small explosion rocked it as a lucky shot pierced its weakening shields and slammed into the cannon harnessed to its belly. By itself, even a Nova laserblast didn't cause the blast: It was the destabilization of something within the vessel's main gun itself that crippled it.

Now trailing a cloud of rapidly cooling plasma, the Primal ship made another wild interdimensional leap away from Wallaby. It reappeared three kilometers away, fleeing in the opposite direction. Even if Wallaby hadn't been able to mark it from its plasma trail, eerily reminiscent of a path of blood from a dying beast, the blaze of heat and light from its three thrusters would have been enough. The fighter pilot had clearly had enough, and Wallaby let it go. He wasn't there to score stenciled kill marks on the nose of his ship. He was there on escort duty.

The tense moment over, Wallaby let out a sigh. That was enough of a disruption to cause his Seraph to shift back into normal flight mode, and to his relief, the sting of de-Merging and being placed fully back inside his body again was decreased this time.

"That's one less Primal to deal with." The rookie marsupial radioed to Captain Hound.

"Terrific." Came the grunting reply of his distracted superior. Wallaby checked his surroundings and found the leader of the 21st Squadron still caught in a weaving dance with his own mark. "Now get over here and help me with mine, Preen!"

Wallaby found himself smiling as he hit his boosters and moved to re-engage. The victory over his own target was nice, but it was merely the means to a greater prize in his mind.

Captain Lars Hound hadn't called him rookie that time.

* * *

_Terrany was by far the most skilled among the Seraph pilots when it came to Merging, and whether this was due to any innate talent or the fact that she Merged with a digitized personality instead of an AI construct was something that that Wyatt and Dr. Bushtail had yet to fully hash out. What that meant in practical terms was quite extraordinary; she was able to not only fight her own battle, but also keep a watchful eye on the progress of everyone else as well._

_ Dana and Damer Ostwind were out of the fight, and retreating away. One of the Primals had taken a beating from a rather surprising burst of marvelous flying from Wallaby Preen, and was also limping clear of the furball. That put their numbers at 4 to 3, with herself and Rourke each taking one pilot, and Wallaby and Captain Hound pairing up on the last of the Primals. Most importantly, this meant that they had tied up Captain Telemos and his men, and the Fat Duck could proceed with the recovery. That was what mattered: Her brother. Carl had been MIA and presumed KIA for way too damn long. She was going to bring him home, and that was that._

_ Telemos. Lylus, how long had it been since she last heard that name? She had fought him back on Venom, screaming through the skies of the Primal stronghold. Back then, Telemos had flown an atmospheric fighter, capable in maneuverability to a Model K, and very nearly won out. After she had shot down all of his wingmen, Terrany had turned her attention on the smug bastard and finally triumphed in a duel that had tested her abilities to their limit, but left her glowing in triumph. _

_ Apparently that duel had made more of an impact on her rival. Telemos flew like a demon possessed, darting and weaving through space, his thrusters flaring brightly in the empty void. Every time Terrany drew a bead on him, he would up and vanish, reappearing moments later somewhere else and pouncing on her again. The Seraph's unique mobility allowed her to bob and weave around the strikes, and the entire fight seemed more like a match between pugilists than a duel for aerial supremacy. He would punch, she would dodge. She would punch, and he would scatter in the equivalent of a puff of smoke._

_ The strange technology that allowed the Primal spacefighter to "Jump" from one point in space to another so effortlessly was unnerving, especially for KIT. Inside the shared white landscape of their Merged minds, the digitized Falco stared at the monitors used to represent all their various modes of visual awareness with a lingering dread._

_ "I've seen this before." Falco murmured. Terrany glanced over at him, surprised. The veteran pilot met her stare. "No, I'm serious. This is like…the way he disappears and reappears, Andross tried this once."_

_ "You're kidding. When?"_

_ "The Lylat Wars. Area 6." Falco said, using the name that the original Cornerian Air Force had assigned to the region of space directly above Andross's command hub on Venom 75 years ago. Terrany tried to recall why that particular region and battle was so important, and a moment later, she could feel Falco's musings taking root inside of her mind._

_ She could see it, almost as though she had been there. An entire fleet of ships, multiple lines of defense, and her grandfather had led a wild and daring charge right through its center, with the _Great Fox_ providing support fire. They had annihilated Andross's last line of defense, the pride of his space corps, and almost reached the outer edge of Venom's atmosphere when a craft unlike anything ever built had shimmered into existence in front of them, blocking their path._

_ "Creator above." Terrany whispered. "Falco, you just…"_

_ "Stop reading my mind, would you?" The blue avian cut her off tersely. "It's not as much fun for me if I can't tell old war stories. But yeah, this is the same goddamn trick."_

_ "So he was using Primal technology?"_

_ "Or something. This frigging star system has too many secrets." Falco nodded. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?" He glanced meaningfully to a chronometer placed above their mindscape's monitors, which was silently counting down from the five minute mark. It was now at 2 minutes, 19 seconds, and decreasing. When it hit zero, they would drop out of Merge…and neither held any doubt that Telemos would love to rip them to pieces as soon as they lost their edge._

_ Terrany tightened her hands on the controls, which was more of a metaphorical device than anything. The ship moved as she willed it: Terrany just preferred the feeling of having the controls in her hands, even inside the Merged mindscape._

_ "We may have to break a few rules this time."_

* * *

_Albatross Transport "Fat Duck"_

The Albatross's unpressurized cargo bay swallowed the crippled Seraph Arwing up slowly: The pilot used the large transport's maneuvering thrusters to creep in reverse, while the co-pilot manned the bay's cargo arms and reached out to grab hold of the ship as soon as it was in range. It would have to be a very delicate grab: The Arwing was a right mess. All he had to guide his partner's course was the viewscreen from the cargo arm array's camera, which gave an angled and imperfect view of the open hatch and its relation to their target.

"Okay, nudge it a little to port…" The co-pilot coaxed his comrade. "Easy, now."

"Say when."

"Okay, straighten 'er out again. You've got about another five meters yet, and I don't wanna punch that canopy with one of my grapplers." The fear was real: Though the prongs of the arms were lined with heavy rubber of the sort that had once been used for fork truck tires, they were still reinforced titanium at their cores, and they could easily punch a hole through anything less than armor plate.

"Yeah, I got it, I got it." The main pilot was sweating. With only his co-pilot's guidance, was flying blind, trying to feel out the movements of his ship.

Further behind the Albatross flight crew, the recovery team assigned to the mission watched anxiously by the first of the two airlock doors that separated the flight deck of the transport from its cargo bay. They jostled for a look through the small plexiglass viewing windows at head height, eager for a glimpse of the ship and the pilot they had traveled to the edge of Lylat to retrieve.

"God, look at it." One of the Katina corpsmen muttered in horror. "That thing is mangled. Look, that wing's split into three pieces!"

"Actually, those are three separate wings." One of the tired technicians from the _Wild Fox_ corrected him.

"Say what?" The corpsman went goggle-eyed. "Oh, geez. That's one of those newfangled Arwings, isn't it? The Rareaff?"

"Seraph." Dr. Billburn breathed out. "I just pray they get it aboard in one piece. We'll have a devil of a time if they crack that cockpit."

"Hey, at least nobody's shooting at us anymore." Another corpsman piped up cheerfully.

"Yeah, but you don't hear the pilots relaxing, do you?" The same worn-out engineer from before cut in. He had one hand pressed to an earphone which was tapped into the Albatross's communications, and looking rather dismal about what he was overhearing. "All that means is they're too busy shooting at our escorts to bother with us. And right now, things could go either way."

"Okay, back a little more…half a meter, slow it up…slow it up…" The co-pilot kept speaking out his instructions in as calm a voice as he could muster. His hands gripped the cargo arm controls tightly, and he brought one to bear, reaching for the Arwing's battered nose. One wrong slip here and the arm would skid up the fighter's sleek nose, puncturing the canopy and exposing the cryofrozen pilot inside to hard vacuum: A death sentence regardless of his state.

With a gasp, he clamped the rubberized pincers together and grabbed hold of the Arwing's nose only one and a third meters from the canopy's leading edge. "Capture." He breathed out, then repeated the statement. "I have capture!"

"All stop." The lead pilot cut the maneuvering thrusters out and let his co-pilot take control of the recovery. He sagged into his seat with visible relief.

Gently, the co-pilot pulled the damaged ship further back into the expansive cargo bay from his grip on its nose. When it was far enough in, he brought the other cargo arm to station by its unfurled wing and clamped onto the main wingstrut, using his second handhold to turn the vessel about and bring it down to the floor of the ship.

"It's in."

"Closing outer doors." The main pilot flicked a series of switches. "Engaging grav-plating." The Arwing, already settled on the floor of the cargo bay, flopped to a more sturdy position as the ship's artificial gravity kicked in and grabbed hold of it. Had it not been lying there, the fall from its point of entry would have been catastrophic. Finally, the cumbersome cargo doors were closed, and the pilot hit one final switch. "Reintroducing atmosphere."

A loud hiss of compressed nitrogen and oxygen rang through the ship's hull as the vacuum of space was banished away. A full minute later, the air inside the cargo bay was thin, but breathable, and the medical and engineering teams piled into the airlock, shut the hatch, and emerged on the other side with a puff of pressure instability that forced them to pop their sinuses.

They descended down the uncomfortable military ladder and scrambled over the surface of the long-frozen Arwing.

"Damnit, don't release the canopy locks!" Dr. Billburn commanded them all sharply. "We don't have the equipment here to thaw him out and revive him, and we need him iced over until we do."

"Relax, doc." One of the technicians called back calmly. "We wouldn't do a damn thing to hurt the Commander. But it's not like you're going to be able to drag the entire ship into sickbay with you either. We have to use the manual release on the pod."

"The what?"

The technicians shared a look that could have meant a hundred different things, and then one looked back to the doctor. "These ships are designed to jettison the entire cockpit in the event of a complete foul-up. This ship lost power a long time ago, so we have to pop the clamps manually, one at a time to be able to disengage the escape pod from the hull. And yes, don't worry. It won't ruin the integrity of the canopy seal."

Dr. Billburn pressed his lips together and nodded. Even had he wanted to argue, it would do him no good. While the technicians busied themselves, he prepared his equipment. One of the corpsmen went over to the wall of the cargo bay and punched the intercom. "Okay, the package is secure. Let's get the hell out of here!"

* * *

_"Starfox Team, this is Fat Duck. Target is aboard and we are green for evac."_

Rourke's hand didn't come up to his headset radio, but the communicator squawked regardless because of his control in Merge Mode. _**"Roger, Fat Duck. Make for our retreated fighters, we've got these Primals wrapped up."**_

_"Music to our ears, Starfox. Good hunting."_ Kilometers away from where Rourke and his Primal opponent were dueling, the Albatross transport's engines throttled up to full brightness and it began to move away from the furball. It would take a great deal of time for the large vessel to break far enough away from the fight, and though Rourke knew that the three remaining Primals were well covered, he also knew that his own time in Merge Mode was ticking down far too fast for his liking. Terrany was even closer to the De-Merging mark, and if they didn't neutralize their targets, the Primals would pick the Albatross and them apart with ease.

He swung around his target, lobbing a loose and leisurely salvo of white lasershots at the Primal. The ship shimmered and shifted away again, and Rourke was forced to search wildly about for it one more time. He was growing desperate, and perhaps the other pilot sensed it: The fellow's jump had landed him a good ten seconds away from Rourke, allowing him to close in at a painfully casual pace. The Seraph's expanded radar footprint made it an easy target for the Primal's attack radar, and another salvo of missiles burst out at him, a full dozen…and unlike before, the Primal fighter spaced them out into six pairs, giving each of them a slightly different approach vector with subtle twitches of his nose as he released his payload.

Rourke had gone with the G-Negator pods in his Modular Weapons Bay, a sound tactical maneuver under most circumstances. But in this particular case, he sorely missed having the capacity of the Seraph's G-Bombs. Even an uncharged Smart Bomb would have helped to cut off the attack.

His ODAI fed him the information of their trajectories and their counteroffensive options. They could easily dance away from the missiles, but that would prevent them from coming up close on their target, and they needed to get close. Every shot they fired that was more than 300 meters away was neutralized, either by the pilot's own maneuvering or the unique ability which allowed it to teleport away. Maybe it was the wrong word for it, but Rourke had more important things to worry about than what to call the stunt.

Of all the options he had in front of him, only one made any sense if he hoped to end the fight: He'd have to fly his way through the storm of missiles, close in on the Primal, and make for a head-on pass. With any luck, the Primal would take the worst of the blows.

His ODAI didn't like the plan, but he was too much like Rourke in his desire to end the fight quickly.

They soared headlong into the fray, downing the missiles with quick and precise shots that Milo would have approved of. They cleared the first four, then the next three, and the three after that, leaving the final pair on approach towards them. There was no time to spin the nose of the Arwing and its guns around; Rourke made a subtle shift down and away from the missiles, inverting the ship and angling upwards to bring his Nova lasers towards the inbound Primal fighter. It railed against him with its six linked lasers, and Rourke responded by launching three charged Nova laserblasts right back at him.

The final two missiles tried to veer after him, and just as Rourke had hoped, even after they detonated and fired their slug core, the resulting projectiles failed to do anything more than lightly graze his shields. The volley of laserfire was a punishing blow, but his counterattack was more so. A normal charged laserburst, green in color, was potent enough. The charged version of the Nova lasers taxed his capacitors to the breaking point, but would be strong enough to annihilate the foolhardy Primal craft.

The three globes of white light detonated and blinded both his eyes and the Seraph's visual sensors. The attack seemed to swallow the Primal fighter whole, but his natural sense of danger came to Rourke's aid. He spun his ship around and lined his guns behind him. Sure enough, as the cameras adjusted from the dying glare of the charged blasts, he could make out the Primal fighter blazing at him from another angle. It hadn't gotten clear of the blast entirely, and its shields were glowing hotly. There was even evidence of discoloration along his hull, with gray spots marring the sleek blackness of the design. The ship's main cannon was burning bright, a ball of raw power dancing between the forks of its nose.

Rourke and the Primal fired at the same time, screaming by at point blank range. Damaged, they spun around and faced each other again. The Primal had taken significant damage, and Rourke's own shields were baked. Another pass like that might leave both of them dead, or only one. Rourke switched his communications from the optical interlink of the Godsight Pods and reactivated his radio transceiver, letting out a clear-channel transmission.

_**"So, is this how it's going to be? We just keep making passes at each other until somebody flinches?"**_

The Primal didn't respond for a moment, but neither did he attack. Instead, they hung there, guns pointed at one another in a standoff, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Rourke's radio crackled. _"I have gotten the measure of you, and you of me. This fight is a stalemate, Cornerian." _The Primal ship angled up and away from Rourke, then shot by overhead. Had Rourke wanted to, he could have stitched the Primal's underside with laserfire, landed a few blows before the pilot reacted and poofed away in that shimmer again.

Rourke held his fire. _**"I don't like draws."**_ He called after the Primal sullenly. Strangely enough, that emotion didn't get blurred out by Merge Mode.

_"You likely hate dying worse. Until next time, Starfox."_

Rourke watched the damaged fighter begin to retreat away, and with a sense of mixed relief and tension, he let his weary Arwing drop back out of Merge Mode. The wings and G-Negators folded back up, and he fought off the mental fatigue of his most challenging duel yet.

There had been an absence of the blind and frenzied hatred most Primals they had gone up against possessed. It gave Rourke something to think about as he aimed himself towards the retreating transport.

* * *

Captain Telemos was taut as a string. The duel between himself and the Pale Demon had been something he had dreamed of every night. It had been the only thing he'd been able to motivate himself with, the only thing that made any sense. All the long days, all the scorn and shame he and his squadmates had been subjected to, they had led to this. He would defeat the female McCloud, regain his honor, and be himself once more. He would be baptized anew in a fountain of her blood and the Lord of Flames would forgive him for his previous weakness.

And yet, as they dueled, all of that faded away. There was nothing but the roar of his engines, the crumpling of the Ghost Drive's transdimensional leaps, and the flash of crossing laserfire. His entire body strained as they dueled on, and he knew that she was giving it her all as well. Knowing that fact made him feel all the more alive, and had she not been trying to kill him, he might have shouted in exultation.

_This_ was what he lived for, a glorious battle between heated rivals! _This_ was what had been missing from his life! How right he had been to boldly claim that nobody else could stand a chance of defeating her.

"You are good, Pale Demon. Your skills have improved since we last met." He grunted over an open radio frequency, smiling through the intense G-Forces. Not even his ship's dampeners could fully neutralize the wild swings and sharp turns he was putting the Phoenix through.

_**"Funny, I beat you the last time we crossed swords." **_Came her reply. _**"Is this your way of saying you're going to lose again?"**_

"The last time we met, I piloted an inferior craft to your precious advanced Arwing, girl." Telemos snarled back. She swung around on him, arcing overhead and tracking him to fire a continuous rain of shots down. Telemos punched the Ghost Drive and let himself be swept away, appearing on her flanks. He punched out another salvo of missiles which she evaded and landed a few well-placed shots. She returned the favor shot for shot, refusing to give in. "Now our spacefighters are equally matched…and no matter how good you think you are, I have had years of combat experience. You cannot hope to win."

_**"Buddy, something you've got to know about us McClouds."**_ Terrany answered. _**"If you don't put us down hard the first time, we get back up and bury you. We **_**always**_** get back up."**_

Telemos punched the Ghost Drive again, this time guiding his ship not farther away from her, but closer, only 75 meters away from her position and pointed up at her belly. The wooziness that Ghost Drive caused was slackening off; he supposed he was more conditioned to it now than when he first used it in trials.

He fired his main cannon and hurled another pair of Corona missiles up at her. She quickly swerved clear of the beam, but their proximity allowed it to shear off along the side of her shields. She quickly popped off two more rounds and knocked out the missiles, but the damage had been done.

"Then I shall drop you like the animal you are, Cornerian." Telemos swore. "Today is the day I end you."

_"Captain!" _His radio crackled from the Primal secure frequency, and his comm automatically switched over to the source of the transmission: Phoenix 2, his second in command. _"Phoenix 4 is down and retreating. Phoenix 3 is under attack and I'm moving to support! Request assistance!"_

"Negative, I have the Pale Demon in my gunsights." Telemos growled back to his wingman. That wasn't entirely true: She'd danced out of range and they were flying around one another again. "Deal with it yourself."

_"Phoenix Lead, forget the Demon! Your men come first!"_

"I will **not be denied my vengeance!**" Telemos screamed into his microphone, punching the Ghost Drive into action once more. His system sent him a warning about overheating from the continued and rapid use of the device, but he ignored the advisory notice. He ignored everything. There was only the Pale Demon. Nothing else mattered.

Phoenix 2's comm line was silent for several precious seconds. When his wingman spoke, it was with bitter acrimony. _"Damn you, Telemos." _Telemos heard the sound of his subordinate's engines reaching full throttle before the channel closed again.

Telemos turned all his senses towards the transformed Arwing of the Pale Demon once more. He'd barely noticed the rest of the skirmish around him, and had ignored his own rules of combat.

Nothing else mattered.

* * *

Wallaby was flying like a new marsupial. His victory over the Primal who he'd been paired with had done more good for his senses and his confidence than anything else could have. While he was still fatigued, his adrenaline kept pumping , forcing him on edge as he teamed up with Captain Hound. The last of the Primal spacefighters who had accosted them and the _Fat Duck_ was now running for survival. A Model K and a Seraph breathing down his neck made for a rough ride for any pilot, and clearly, the Primal they were teamed up on was one of the weaker members of the squadron. Doubtless that that Captain Telemos, who had boldly called out Terrany for a duel, was the best.

"Come on, kid, nail this sucker!" Hound urged his wingman. His Model K doggedly kept a medium pursuit, preventing the pilot from taking any extreme evasive maneuvers or jinking wildly to throw him off, as he might have been able to if the leader of the 21st Squadron had tried to close in. That boxing tactic allowed Wallaby, and his more maneuverable spacefighter to close the gap for quick, darting strikes. Like a knifefighter, the rookie marsupial was able to land one glancing blow after another, steadily wearing the Primal's shields down.

He swerved by in another pass, coming from below and smashing a manually aimed laserburst into the vessel's belly. The shields flared in protest and finally began to crack.

"That got him!" Wallaby whooped, and proving the point, the Primal spacefighter they were targeting wobbled woozily, then began to shimmer.

"He's jumping!" Hound warned his young teammate.

"I got him, I got him…" Wallaby grunted as he concentrated, and his Seraph unfolded its wings with another rapid transformation into Merge Mode. The Merged Seraph hung still for a moment, then spun around and fired wildly in a direction that Hound hadn't sensed any danger from. The shots impacted against what seemed like empty space, and then a trail of reddish exhaust from vented plasma marked the wounded target. _**"Got him."**_ Wallaby concluded, de-Merging.

"Damn fine shooting. Okay, I'll finish him off here…" Hound brought the damaged fighter into his gunsights and charged up a shot. The targeting reticule turned red and then flashed over, locking onto the damaged Primal. He didn't get the chance to pop off the shot, however: A searing beam of raw power smashed out of nowhere and caught him full-on from above, causing his canopy to react and darken to full opacity to spare his eyes from the blinding strike. Hound yelped and tried to pull clear of it, but whoever was controlling the attack followed him, keeping his Model K solidly in the killzone. When the attack ended, his cockpit was filling with smoke, and alarms were blaring from every system, most noticeably his deflector shield emitters.

His radio crackled, and a transmission from his attacker came over his headset. It could be no other. _"Your ship is damaged. If you want to live, you'll retreat. Last. Warning."_

His alert system was chirping rapidly, warning of missile lock.

"Boss!" Wallaby screamed.

"Damnit." Hound grunted and winced, jerking his leg away from the side of the cockpit where a panel had blown. If the pain and the charred fabric from his pants were any indicator, he'd suffered a serious burn himself. He managed to turn his radio to an open-channel, switching from the optical interlink. "You bastard, you'll shoot me as soon as I turn."

_"I could shoot you now, and not even your Seraph-equipped wingman could stop me from turning you into space dust." _Came the wrathful retort. _"Last chance. You leave my wingman alone, I leave you alone."_

Hound gave it a half second's worth of critical thought, then veered his Model K away from the wounded Primal and made a fast retreat towards the fleeing transport. "I didn't think that you Primals had any honor."

_"Honor is the only thing we have!" _The sharp rebuke came back. _"Run while you still have a little of your own left."_ The channel dropped out, and Wallaby closed in behind his damaged leader.

"Boss, you okay?"

"My ship's baked, and I wouldn't want to risk another engagement." Hound grumbled. "I guess we can thank the Creator that this Primal's more interested in cutting and running than fighting on."

"Why?" Wallaby prodded.

Hound tightened his paw around the control stick and stayed mute. He could hardly give an answer to a question he didn't understand himself.

* * *

Phoenix 3, still venting engine plasma, was relieved when the Arwings turned away. He was moreso when Phoenix 2 fell in formation beside him.

"You saved my life there, Saber."

"You would do the same for me, Nome." Phoenix Squadron's second in command dismissed the praise. "We all should."

"Wait, where's the captain?" Nome worriedly glanced around their surroundings, searching for another Phoenix spacefighter.

Saber exhaled slowly. "He's still fighting."

"Alone?"

"With _her_." Phoenix 2 confirmed hatefully.

* * *

Rourke was dutifully flying a roundabout course as he made ready to bug out with the rest of the squadron and the transport they had feverishly escorted. Dana and Damer were already stationed around it, Wallaby and Captain Hound were making a direct course at best speed, albeit a little slower than usual: Hound wasn't risking blowing out his engines after the beating he'd taken. As Rourke busily started scooping up his Godsight Pods with the Draw Effect created by his deflector shields, he checked his radar and frowned; Terrany McCloud wasn't on his scope. "Terrany, where are you?"

_**"Busy. Telemos is like a dog with a bone: He won't stop trying to shoot my face off here." **_Came her reply. _**"You scooping up your GSPs?"**_

"Yeah, I am."

_**"I noticed: Some of the feeds went down."**_

"We've got your brother. Fall back, get your Pods scooped up. We have to get the Hell out of here."

_**"I don't think that Telemos plans on giving us the chance if I stop messing around with him." **_Terrany refused the order. _**"We can't lose the Godsight Pods. If the Primals get their hands on one, it could ruin everything. You're going to have to grab them."**_

"Terrany, you won't stand a chance against him if you drop out of Merge Mode!"

_**"I'm not."**_ Came her far too calm reply.

Rourke's claws twitched instinctively. Something in her muted voice made him far too uneasy. She'd jumped into Merge Mode even before he had, and she was still…

"Terrany…What's your Merge timer at?" He heard himself ask.

_**"Six minutes."**_

"It's supposed to kick you off after five!" Rourke jerked back on the stick, flying for Terrany. "Your systems are malfunctioning! Hang on, I'm coming to back you up…"

_**"No!" **_Came her forceful rebuke. _**"It's not malfunctioning, Rourke. I deleted the limiters."**_

"You don't know what that'll do to you! Terrany, you might…you might not…"

_**"We know the risks, Rourke. We just don't have a choice."**_

"We?"

_**"Me. Me and him. Us."**_

"No. Damn you, no, you're not doing this." Rourke jammed his thrusters to life. He tagged his radio, reaching out to the retreating fighters. "Who else is still flight-worthy?"

_"Just me." _Came Wallaby's nervous response. _"You need backup?"_

"Head for Terrany's Godsight Pods and grab them for pickup. Everyone else, we'll be back on unsecure channels, so watch what you say." Rourke kept his Arwing aimed for the titanic battle between Terrany and Telemos, well aware that retrieving the Pods would be a loss of short-term tactical advantage. She was right on that count, though: They couldn't risk losing the Pods to the Primals, or having the secret of them exposed. His own Godsight Pods spun closer around his shields, and were drawn back up into the storage of his Modular Weapons Bay, locking into place.

_"I'm on it, Rourke. You get Terrany back alive now, will you?"_

Rourke was about to respond when his radar alert went crazy. Ahead of him, in the same airspace where the damaged Primal fighters had retreated, the coldness of space was suddenly blasted by light. A massive rip in spacetime had torn itself open, and out of the wound poured an entire fleet of ships dropping out of subspace. The size of the subspace rift was evidence enough of how much trouble had just arrived at their doorstep, but his sensors quickly confirmed what his eyes could make out by silhouette alone.

"Heaven help us." He breathed. The Primal Armada had come.

* * *

At the rear of the fight, the unmistakable glow of a tremendous subspace rift instantly sent both the transport and their wounded escorts on high alert. In the cockpit of _Fat Duck_, the co-pilot paled.

"Frigging Lylus." He shared a look with his partner, then reached for the FTL controls. "Plotting a course. We'll need another minute before the Drive can go again."

"I was afraid you'd say that." The lead pilot activated his headset mike. "Escorts, this is _Fat Duck_. We're going to need…" He froze, realizing that the secure optical interlink wasn't online anymore. Even supposedly secure transmissions could be intercepted by the Primals: He'd gotten the warnings during his briefings, same as everyone else in the SDF transport corps. "…a little more time."

_"I'm not sure if we can give it to you, Fat Duck, but we'll try."_ Captain Hound rasped. He and the others weren't in any great shape of their own, but they still stood more of a chance than a weaponless transport…especially one carrying the comatose Carl McCloud. _"Rourke, we're bugging out of here as soon as we can. Fall back, and limit your engagements!"_

_ "Like I need you telling me to not get suckered into this trap any more than we already have?" _Rourke gruffly remarked. _"Terrany! You've got to disengage! The entire Primal Armada's just jumped out on top of us!"_

Strangely, she didn't answer. Rourke was already flying towards her, but it took him a moment to realize the reason for her silence.

Telemos was no longer the only Primal spacefighter attacking her.

* * *

The Primal Armada, or at least the detachment sent by the Homeworld, numbered twelve ships in all. Of those, two were attack carriers, each boasting a full complement of thirty-two Helion class spacefighters. All sixty-four of them launched as soon as their carriers cleared subspace, and following the guidance of their controllers, the sixty-four Primal pilots rushed towards the fleeing Cornerians. The battle between the singular transformed Arwing and Phoenix 1 was a footnote to them, and a less practical target; Five Arwings and a transport made for the greater prize, after all.

Nobody had anticipated that the lone Arwing would break free of its engagement and hurl itself straight at them.

Inside the cockpit of her Seraph Arwing, Terrany McCloud's body was as rigidly still as it had been throughout her entire dogfight with Telemos. It had been a battle of attrition between them, and were the circumstances different, she would have expected victory to come at a steep, but manageable price. The sudden arrival of Primal reinforcements had shot every projection and probability that KIT had set up right out the window.

The carriers launched ships, and they hit their engines and screamed away. KIT tracked their course, and the destination was obvious: They were headed for the transport her brother's crippled fighter was on.

Her mouth opened, and though no noise rattled past her lips, inside the shared mindscape of Merge Mode, the albino vixen screamed. There was no real choice, and despite KIT's feeble protests, she knew that the AI agreed with her.

They flew towards the heart of the Primal fighter contingent and scattered the formation apart, blowing a hole clean through its center by destroying eight fighters in a single whirling pass. The rest, reacting like angry hornets, swung about and curved in towards them, eager for the kill.

* * *

For Telemos, the arrival of the Primal force was a bucket of cold water thrown over a raging fire. His opponent turned away from him, _ignored him_, and flew towards the thick pack of lesser spacefighters.

"No!" He shouted angrily, trying to follow her. Though his Ghost Drive allowed for rapid transit between two points, the distance that the Pale Demon blazed was too insurmountable. He had missile lock on her, but by then, she was mixed up among all the other planes. Faster than she'd moved against him, she annihilated eight of them in a single pass, and all the others folded around her.

"No! Damn you all, no!" Telemos screamed over the radio. "She's mine! MINE! Don't you dare interfere!"

They didn't listen. Only one voice bothered to answer him; Phoenix 2, his right hand man.

_"Sir, it's over." _Lashal Orrek told him coldly.

Telemost knew otherwise. It wasn't over. He flew into the maelstrom of fighters.

* * *

It was Rourke's worst nightmare. He was too far out from Terrany to render assistance, his ship was still cooling down from Merge Mode and wouldn't let him risk another shift, and the Primal capital ships, sensing that the lone Arwing was the more deadly and valuable target after Terrany's blistering attack, were positioning themselves around the fight. Two of them, not needed for the encircling maneuver, were coming straight for his damaged wingmen and the helpless transport. Wallaby Preen was still carrying out his orders, and was a kilometer away from picking up the final Godsight Pod; he was well clear of the immediate danger.

It was a trap. It had always been a trap, and any control he had over the situation, any hope of guiding the situation, was blown.

"Terrany!" He pleaded over the not-quite-so-secure encrypted channel. "Get out of there! Fall back, damn you!"

_**"Can't."**_ Came a clipped, and stuttering reply. She must have been burning her brain out, trying to cope with tracking so many targets around her and no Godsight Pod camera feeds to rely on. _**"No…way out of this…"**_

"I'm coming for you! Just hang on!"

_**"NO!" **_She vehemently rebuked him. _**"Ships…heading for Carl. You have…stop them!"**_

Rourke bit down hard, tasting blood as one of his canines bored a puncture wound through his lip. "Terrany…" He found that his hand was shaking on the control stick. It was fear, but not a fear for himself.

_**"Save Carl!" **_She begged him. _**"All that matters…the real McCloud!"**_

He stifled the urge to scream obscenities at her. There was nothing he could do for her, and any further communication would only distract her. He veered towards the two inbound capital ships, and his sensors scanned the odds laid against him. With no smart bombs and no Merge Mode, taking on only one would have been near suicidal.

And yet, was Terrany taking on any less of a risk?

Rourke charged up his lasers and aimed his nose towards the lead ship. They weren't quite in target lock range yet. He wondered if this was the day that he would finally die. He wondered if Terrany was doing this out of panic, or because she had suddenly bought into the McCloud curse, or she was doing such a suicidal thing to deny it. Whatever the reason, he accepted the outcome with a calm fatalism. He was going to die here, trying to stop these two ships twenty times his size.

Another burst of light behind him rattled his focus. "Damn, are there more Primals?!" He snapped.

_"Negative, that's not a subspace rift, that's a portal!"_ Dana Tiger responded.

Rourke risked a glance over his shoulder and confirmed Dana's assessment. It was indeed an inbound Gate portal, and the ship coming through it…

"The Wild Fox." Rourke spoke aloud, as the nose cleared the event horizon.

The _Wild Fox_ wasted no time either; As soon as it registered the threat, it fired a blast from its Turbolaser cannons and drilled the first of the ships, cracking its shields. A pair of cruise missiles shot out from the weapons bay and blew the undefended vessel apart, and the mothership of the Starfox squadron turned its attention on the second ship, which had recovered enough to start firing back.

_"All pilots, this is General Grey! Jump to subspace and get out of here, we'll cover your retreat!"_

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Bridge_

Wyatt Toad and his engineering crews had worked themselves half to death finishing up the final repairs of the _Wild Fox_. General Grey had made it clear they would be jumping to the scene of the retrieval to offer additional support as soon as they were ready. Even before they'd fired up the engines, they had been charging the warp gate capacitors. By the time they lifted off of Katina's soil and achieved orbit, it was fully powered. As soon as they broke orbit, they activated it, not knowing what to expect on the other side. They found themselves flying into an active warzone, and when the team's signals came in, it became clear that the Arwings of Starfox and the 21st Squadron had had the crap beaten out of them. ROB and Milo had reacted as quickly as they could.

The _Wild Fox_ shuddered slightly as the second Primal ship's forward batteries scattered laserfire along their shields. Milo grit his teeth. "ROB, take that second ship down already!"

The robot, hardlinked to the ship, made a noncommittal beep and continued his deadly work. General Grey was already barking out orders to the Arwings, and they clicked in affirmatives.

_"Wild Fox, this is Fat Duck. We'll need another thirty seconds before we can activate FTL. Can you hold them off that long?"_

"We'll sure as hell try." Milo grumbled, keeping the nose of the majestic four-winged ship pointed at the inbound Primal cruiser. "Can we get everyone back?"

Over at the radar, Hogsmeade flicked the spherical image of the space around them, zooming out to encompass every ship that provided a return. He frowned, noticing that a few of them offered minimal radar reflection, and he switched over to the MIDS Array. Instantly, the scope cleared, providing an image of every ship and its gravitational mass imprint. The ship put an overlay of the IF/F tags on the MIDS display, and the systems operation officer let out a squeal of dismay.

"General, I've got three Arwings by the transport, one out making a run back towards us, one more squaring off with that last ship, and…"

General Grey gnawed on the end of his pipe and looked back over his shoulder to the radar officer. "And what?"

"We've got one Arwing surrounded by…a lot of Primal fighters, and the rest of the capital ships." Hogsmeade swallowed and looked down at the old hound. "It's Terrany."

Grey shut his eyes. "Of course it is."

* * *

Telemos had thought Terrany had given everything she had in the fight with him. In a sense, he had been right; one on one, she had flown as his equal once again. But now, surrounded on all sides and horribly outmatched, a part of her he had never seen before suddenly came alive. It made his voice catch in his throat, and he found that instead of diving in to attack her anew, he had lost the will to do anything besides coast in the outer circle of the dogfight and watch.

Sixty-four had become fifty-six in a few seconds. Then they had closed in, and beyond even supernatural ability, Terrany's style of fighting altered. She gave up on fighting defensively completely; her twists and turns, her spins and impossible cartwheels were all made for the sole purpose of destroying as many Primals as she possibly could.

Telemos looked around the battlefield, checking his radar as well. She was now surrounded by not only the fighters, but ten ships of the line, a precious resource after the failed attack in the region of space the Cornerians called Sector Y. There was no escape for her. No way out. The precious mothership of Starfox had arrived on the scene, but it was too far out, too busy with the pursuing force going after that transport to alter the situation. Under such odds, most pilots would have folded, crumpled completely, tried to make a desperate break for freedom and survival.

Terrany McCloud, The Pale Demon, did not. Suffering hit after hit, taking blows to deliver worse ones upon the steadily dwindling number of Helion fighters that had ganged up on her, she fought like a cornered animal, lashing out and drawing blood for every wound.

She was not a warrior who fought for honor, or prestige. She did not even fight for survival. In that mad rush of combat, there was nothing that indicated preservation. She fought, perhaps, for the joy of fighting itself, or in a blind fury. Terrany had known she was flying to her doom, and she had jumped into the jaws regardless.

"Why?" Telemos whispered, his eyes burning fiercely as he stared down at her struggling Arwing. Another laserblast snapped into her shields, sending her skidding off a few meters before the ship righted itself. Why had she never fought with this much fire against him? If this was her true power, her true potential as a pilot and a warrior…By the Lord of Flames, could he have even stood a chance against her?

The Arwing moved slower now. Either she was losing focus and reaction time, or the ship itself was turning sluggish after too many punches. It was all going to end here, Telemos deduced, and that made him suddenly, violently, enraged. The tense and strained thread of his sanity, which had been quivering for days, finally snapped, and he screamed into his radio with a howling curdling cry.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to end like this! She was to perish at his hands, not picked apart by these…these vultures!

"You deny me _**everything**_!" He shrieked, and no reply came over the Primal battlenet. It was hard for the others to determine who he was speaking to: The Pale Demon, his own squadron, or the reinforcements.

Not even Telemos knew anymore.

* * *

_As the fight worsened outside, the mindscape shared by Terrany and Falco shuddered. Shards of ceiling tile collapsed around them, the blinding white lights flickered haphazardly, and after the last of the Godsight Pods had gone offline, almost every viewscreen to the world around them went dark. Left with only the ship's own cameras and sensors, and Terrany's own senses, besieged on all sides, they both knew they were caught in a battle they would not, could not, win. _

_ "There's no way around this, kid." Falco told her through a clenched beak. "We're good and screwed."_

_ "You and grandpa used to do the impossible all the time." She countered. "Like attacking Area 6, blasting through the enemy's main defensive line?"_

_ "We were only able to do that because we caught his fleet with its pants down, and we had the Great Fox backing us up. We're all alone out here, Terrany, and flying nearly blind." Falco gave her a bitter stare. "Why did you do it? Were you trying to kill yourself?"_

_ Terrainy strained at the controls. She was shivering in time with each laserbolt that smashed into the Seraph's dwindling shields. The wild fires of her heart blazed, and there was still defiance in her eyes._

_ "How could I let them take my brother away from me again? Falco, I had no choice!"_

_ The last wisp of Falco Lombardi crumbled under that question. He sighed and leaned forward against his console, tracking the damage to their ship. Terrany was giving it everything, throwing one wild punch after another. She had whittled the enemy force down to thirty-eight ships._

_ No, thirty-five; a wild Nova laserblast took off another Helion fighter's wing and sent it careening into two more who had strayed too close. It didn't matter. The ship was hurting, Terrany was hurting, and the strain of staying in Merge Mode beyond the 5 minute limit was finally catching up to them. Her vitals were spiking; neurokinetics were going wild, the EEG was going erratic, and her heart was racing a mile a minute. She was, quite literally, flying herself to death._

_ "You're going to tell me…we have to stop this?" Terrany affixed a sidewards glance on Falco, and now even the representation of her inside her mindscape began to breathe hard, sweat matting her headfur. "But you know as well as…I do…We can't stop."_

_ Falco swallowed. "What did you mean there, when you were talking to Rourke? About your brother being the real McCloud?"_

_ Terrany laughed weakly, doubling over as another Primal fighter closed in and landed a lucky pair of bolts into the Seraph. With a grunt, she turned the Seraph around and blasted his ship to dust. "Damn gnats." She gulped for air, and Falco raced to her side, catching her as she started to fall away from the controls._

_ "My grandfather…my father…my brother. They're the ones that Corneria…looked to. It was supposed to be him here. I was, I was a…a mistake." She wheezed, and Falco held her up so she could still fly the ship. "They need him. Now that he's safe…they stand a chance."_

_ "You're just as important as he is!" Falco insisted, shaking her. "Nobody else could Merge with me! Nobody Merges as well as you do! You've flown like an angel of vengeance since this whole damn mess started, accomplished the impossible, and now you're going to tell me that you're okay with dying just because __**your brother can take your place?!"**_

_"Yes." Terrany shuddered and suddenly coughed, and blood flew out of her mouth. Not in her Mindscape. _In the real world.

_ "What kind of sick, freakish attitude is that?" Falco screamed straight into her ear. "If you wanna die so bad, why are you still fighting? They'd kill you in a heartbeat if you let them, so why are you fighting?!"_

_ "I don't…I don't kn…"_

_ "Yes you DO!" Falco cut her off. "You're fighting because you want to live! You're fighting because you want to get out of this alive and fly to safety and be with Rourke! You can't deny it, your mind's screaming about all the frenzied sex you want to have with him, and I can't shut it off!" She let out a tearful, choking laugh at that, and Falco shook her. "I want to get out of this alive, because I didn't let cancer eat me, and I'm not gonna let a bunch of damn space apes do me in either, but tell me now! Say it, Goddamn you. Tell me the truth! Do you wanna die or do you__** wanna live?!**__"_

_ "I want to live!" Terrany wailed, and the image of her in the mindscape suddenly blazed a brilliant white, engulfing everything. __**"I want to live!"**_

_ And right as she spent a precious millisecond coming to grips with her own mortality, with wanting to deny the family curse, and with shouting it to the heavens, the stacked odds fell into place, and the dice came to rest outside her favor._

_ A single NIFT-29 Corona Missile, fired half-blindly by a Helion fighter on the outside ring of her attackers, had maneuvered through the swarm of hornets, somehow hiding itself as it passed behind the frames and thruster wakes of the inner circle. By some twist of fate, it managed to bore into the underside of her Seraph. The kinetic warhead fired and blasted clean through the fuselage, severing power lines, communication lines…and puncturing the containment field of her fusion generator as well, just before the powerful nuclear reaction that drove the Arwing absorbed the metal with violent hunger. The loss of containment had an immediate and catastrophic effect._

_ The entire ship flatlined. Everything went dark._

* * *

The _Fat Duck_ finally finished its preparations for FTL, and sounding the message, blasted into full retreat. The massive Albatross transport slipped into subspace and fled for Sector Y, and the wounded Arwings followed, leaving only Wallaby, Rourke, and the beleaguered Terrany for the _Wild Fox_ to attend to.

Heedless of the danger, Rourke had flown past the surviving capital ship sent after them when the _Wild Fox_ had opened fire on it. He'd sent his Seraph Arwing towards the furball and the ring of Primal capital ships, his heart thundering in his chest with only one thought: Save Terrany.

He didn't see the missile hit which sounded the death knell of her Seraph. He heard no final words from her. He saw the Helion fighters scatter as an explosion rocked her Arwing, and he felt his heart become hard as stone when the explosion widened, and engulfed the entire airframe in a perfect, spherical fireball. The fusion generator had finally given out, it was the only thing which could destroy an Arwing so completely.

"Terrany! TERRANY!" Rourke screamed into the radio.

_"Rourke, snap out of it!"_ The frantic voice of General Grey thundered into his earpiece. _"You have to get out of there! Retreat, damn you!"_

_"Wallaby here, I'm making vapor trails!" _The only other Arwing left on the field called out, and then his plane vanished from the radar as well, shooting off into subspace and beyond enemy action. Rourke stared at the fireball, too dumbstruck to respond to either of them.

And then he saw it. Just like that, his heart started beating again. Something emerged from the fireball, scarred, scuffed, trailing smoke and melted metal. The Seraph's canopy-enclosed escape pod.

"She ejected!" Rourke cried out. He turned towards her. "I've gotta save her!"

As if finally awakening from the pleasant haze of their victory, the remaining Primal fighters and three of the capital ships turned towards him, firing everything. Another Primal cruiser closed in on the drifting escape pod of Terrany McCloud, and a soft blue beam of light from its underbelly fired, catching the lifeboat in a tractor beam.

Rourke was repulsed quickly, and entirely. Forced to fly back and spin like a madman to deflect their incoming rounds, he was left facing a wall of the Primal's best ships, with his own ship weakened and his nerves frayed beyond hope.

_"Starfox Lead, Retreat NOW. That is a direct fucking order!"_ General Grey shouted over the line. He didn't normally take to swearing; the dog was good and pissed.

"We can't leave Terrany!" Rourke pleaded frantically.

_"Terrany is lost, damnit! We can't afford to lose you too! Get the hell out of there!"_

It tore him apart to do it, but Rourke jerked his Arwing away from the fight and fled with the Primal ships in hot pursuit. The _Wild Fox_ scorched the vacuum of space with a hail of turbolaserfire and another salvo of cruise missiles to cover his retreat. His hand shook on the stick as his ODAI finished the quick calculations for the jump. The _Wild Fox_ started its own slow turn, and in perfect synch, the last standing Arwing and its mothership activated their FTL drives. The mess and noise of a rescue operation that had cost them more than they'd gained faded away for the dim purple and blue aura of subspace.

In the silence, Rourke felt the last of his energy leave him. Exhausted, he felt tears run down his face. His hand hadn't been shaking with rage. The last image of Terrany's escape pod, just before it was drawn up inside the Primal ship, had seared his retinas. He wanted to scream a hundred things, but his fatigued body allowed him only a single painful word before it succumbed to darkness.

"Terrany…"

**To be Continued in Chapter Twenty Six:**

**ADRIFT**


	26. Adrift

_**STARFOX: SUNRISE OVER LYLAT**_

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ADRIFT

**Torture Throughout the Lylat System**- While torture has always been a practice of interrogation with questionable effectiveness throughout Cornerian history, that has never thoroughly stamped out its use. During the rise of the SDF and the fight against the Lylatian fringe elements, torture was routinely employed by special agents within the SDF. Despite all official statements, accounts of the practices employed leaked out to public awareness. Following this embarrassment, most torture techniques were outlawed in an addendum to the Darussian Accords. In spite of this, many believe that the SDF continues to use banned forms of torture, though no confirmation has ever been given to lend credence to the rumors.

_**Recorded Radio Transmission from Pigma Dengar during the Lylat Wars**_

"_Daddy screamed REAAAAL good before he DIED!"_

* * *

The gem that was a possible gamechanger for the stalemated and suddenly backpedaling Primal forces had been buried in the signal intercept data, lost through bureaucratic shuffle and almost missed. Thankfully, when the morning signals report was compiled, somebody had noticed the irregularity; a distress signal, heavily encrypted, emanating from outside of the binary star system's fringe. Forwarding it on to Command, the significance had been made clear. An Arwing, one of the dreaded "Seraph" Arwings which Starfox had used with brutal effectiveness against them, had been lost. Many believed it had been the same Arwing which their first scouting cruiser had made first contact with. The scoutship had gone dark shortly after reporting it was engaging an enemy declared a Value One target by the Lord of Flames Himself.

Apparently their ship hadn't made it, but the Arwing had been so crippled, it had been unable to return itself. The Tribunes had authorized an unheard of number of ships, running on the belief that if they knew about the Arwing, so did their enemies.

The Tribunes had been right to be so paranoid. Still, when the small fleet had exited subspace and jumped onto the scene, they found themselves overlooking a fleeing transport supposedly bearing the precious cargo…

And the Arwings either in retreat, or fighting desperately against the newest and most advanced fighters of the Primal Armada. Phoenix Squadron.

In the confusion of battle that had followed, they had lost the crippled Arwing, but due to a poorly chosen act of self-sacrifice by Starfox's best pilot, they had gained something even better.

There was no hiding the truth of their victory anywhere. The Battlenet lit up, and every Primal suddenly gained heart and the will to fight on.

They had captured The Pale Demon.

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_Detention Center 8_

_200 km west of the Hall of Antiquity_

A heavily armored hovercraft had flown at top speed across the surface of Venom, escorted by a full squadron of Burnout fighter planes, twenty Strafe hoverturrets, and twelve Splinter drone airframes. Such security would have been ridiculous for even the Primals' severe standards under normal circumstances, but the value of their cargo required a forceful presence. Finally, forty-five minutes after departing the Ardent class cruiser _Son of Cinders_, they arrived at the nearest facility which had the combination of security and limited inmate population deemed necessary for their package.

The Strafe hoverturrets took up position around the facility, now permanently assigned to DC-8. The rest of the fighters and drones banked away and returned to base, and the hovercraft came to a stop, settling down onto its struts.

The side opened up, and two Primal soldiers in full body armor with their assault rifles at the ready jumped out. After sounding the all clear, two more troopers stepped out of the hovercraft, dragging a slumped, wretched figure behind them. The prisoner's hands were cuffed with energy manacles behind their back, and a thick burlap hood covered their face.

They dragged the prisoner inside and met the detention center's supervisor, who was particularly pleased. A lesser-ranked Primal stood a meter back behind and to his left.

"Aah. A good day. I did not think we would ever have such a distinguished guest here in my prison."

"Let's be clear about something, Administrator." The trooper in charge of the prisoner growled, hefting his rifle for added emphasis. "This prisoner is still under the authority of the Armada and the Tribunes. This is merely a place to hold the prisoner. As of this moment, DC-8 is under military protection. The prisoner is to be assigned quarters in an empty wing; our own military security will replace your existing guards."

"Now just a moment." The Primal Administrator protested. "This is my building! You can't just walk in here and make such ridiculous demands…"

Without ceremony, the soldier raised his rifle and fired, burning a trio of holes through the complaining Primal's skull. The body slumped to the ground, smelling faintly of plasma char, and the flunkie who had been standing behind and away yelped and jumped clear.

The trooper turned to the surviving prison supervisor. "Do you wish to voice a complaint as well, new Administrator?"

"No! No, certainly not." The suddenly promoted Primal stammered. "Whatever must be done will be done. The southwestern block will serve your purposes well, I think. Just give me ten minutes to transfer the prisoners inside to another area, and…"

"Unnecessary." The trooper waved a hand in the direction of the mentioned cellblock, and the two guards at the rear separated and proceeded down the hallway, kicking doors open as they went.

The sounds of terrified screams and condensed plasmaburst rounds mixed together, and while the grisly executions proceeded, the lead trooper turned to the new Administrator. "As of this moment, the southwest cellblock is under the authority of the Tribunes and their designated agents."

"As the Lord of Flames wills it." The non-military Primal whispered shakily. The sounds of prisoner's screams slackened off as the killing went on, and soon only sporadic gunfire punctuated the silence. "I will see to the operations of the rest of the facility. If there is anything else I can do, please, just tell me and it will be done."

"You and your men are not to speak of our presence here, or the presence of the prisoner." The lead soldier said coldly. "Put another way, we do not exist. In time, if the Tribunes deem it proper, the truth of this shall be made known across the Battlenet. Until then, this operation is Most Secret. Clear?"

"Perfectly."

With that said, the lead soldier ripped the sack off of the prisoner's head, and glaring artificial light beat down upon the battered and pain-contorted face of a white-furred vixen. The young Administrator gasped before he could stop himself, but to his credit, said nothing. The thought burned through his mind anyhow.

_**The Pale Demon.**_

"Come on, prisoner." The soldier grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the now vacated cellblock. "You should feel lucky. We are under direct orders to keep you unharmed until the Geasbreaker arrives."

Her head lolled on her shoulders, and her blurry, bloodshot eyes were unfocused. Still, Terrany's cracked lips parted, and she offered a retort as they dragged her into the darkness.

"You worry about your own hide…bastard."

* * *

_Sector Y Rendezvous Point Alpha_

_Wild Fox_

_16__th__ Day of the Primal War_

General Grey hadn't left his office since the _Wild Fox_, the _Fat Duck_, and the surviving Arwings had jumped to FTL and made a mad dash for SDF-held territory. The Primals hadn't followed; they had their prize.

The door to the bridge hissed open, and Executive Officer Dander stuck his head inside. "Sir, we've arrived at the rendezvous point."

Grey stared down at his desk, and it was several seconds before he nodded. "Has everyone docked?"

"The 21st Squadron is docking now; Starfox is still doing a patrol around us." The orange tomcat informed him. "Transferring Commander McCloud won't be possible unless we put down again."

Grey's mouth twitched at that. "Katina, then?"

"I…I was thinking Corneria might be a better stop." The second in command offered. "Better defenses."

Grey finally looked up, allowing his right hand animal to get a good look at the haunted expression in his eyes. "Katina. The only thing waiting for us at Corneria is a military tribunal."

Though he didn't wince, the stiffening of Dander's shoulders was still a giveaway. "You really think that they'll go that far? General Kagan still has all of us in his confidence."

"You think my old protégé can do dick to protect us against the wrath of the Forces Chiefs?" Grey groused. He reached for his pipe and twirled the stem in his fingers. "I allowed my assets to go after one of their own, in spite of their ships being in a state of disrepair, and my pilots running without any sleep. Because of it, our Arwings are all in need of a major refit, my pilots are shell-shocked…and we lost Terrany. Believe me, there's nothing that Zamrust and Wayland would love more than to serve my ass up on a platter as a scapegoat for this mess."

"What about Sanderson and Pellerton?"

"Iffy. Sanderson could go either way. Pellerton would nitpick through every command decision and mission log before he rendered judgment." Grey paused. "Are we downloading the logs from our Arwings?"

"As we speak, general. I planned on doing the initial review myself and presenting you with my findings. We should probably schedule a debriefing for the pilots in half an hour."

"Just use the black box information for now." The old warhound dismissed the idea. "Let those flyboys get some sleep, if they can. If we tried to talk to them now, we'd only get useless information. It won't be as fresh, but they lost someone today."

"They gained someone, too." Dander pointed out. "If Dr. Bushtail can revive Commander McCloud, it might change this war."

Grey laughed bitterly at that; All they had done was exchanged one McCloud for another this morning. Was that really a positive outcome? He rubbed at his eyes, as tired as anyone aboard the _Wild Fox._ "Let me know what you find out after checking their mission details. I want as good a picture as we can get before we call back to the CSC and let them know what happened."

"I'll do my very best, sir." XO Dander came to attention and saluted. "I'll instruct the _Fat Duck_ to meet us at Katina for the transfer." He waited for General Grey to return the salute and end the meeting, but the tired military commander of Project Ursa didn't raise a paw up to his head. "Sir?"

Grey set his corncob pipe down on his desk. "Tom…If you had been sitting in my chair late last night…would you have authorized this search and rescue mission?"

The orange tomcat gave it three second's worth of thought. "Absolutely not, general." He finally answered. "But then, I'm not you." What he meant by that was unclear, but Grey suspected that Dander meant it in a positive, reassuring way. He was just too tired to understand it.

"Dismissed, Captain."

Dander clicked his heels together, turned about sharply, and strolled out of the office.

* * *

_Hangar Bay_

Rourke didn't so much step out of his Arwing as he fell out of it. His boots slammed to the metal decking with an echoing thud, and the lead pilot of Starfox looked around. Milo was racing towards him from the turbolifts and Dana was slumped forward in her cockpit, mutely staring at her hands.

Rourke was as exhausted as she was, but too many other things took precedence. He was crawling inside of his own skin, half-mad with worry for Terrany. As soon as Milo was in earshot, the gray-furred wolf spoke to him.

"Tell me you have good news."

"XO Dander just sent the word down. We're putting in to Katina so we can transfer Carl's escape pod and Seraph here to the _Wild Fox_."

Rourke's claws bit into the pads of his palms. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant, Rourke." The team's sharpshooter and analyst exhaled. Though haggard, Milo had clearly gotten more sleep than anyone else on the squad; he'd taken advantage of the flight from Darussia to Katina. He ran his fingers through the black ridge of color in his headfur and gave his head a shake. "There's nothing on Terrany."

"Nothing?!" Rourke lunged at Milo, towering over the raccoon several years his senior. "Terrany's been at the top of the Primal's hit list since we attacked Venom! Don't you dare tell me we don't know anything!"

"We haven't made contact with the CSC since the _Wild Fox_ left Katina." The raccoon tried to ease his rage. "You know the Primals can hack our regular frequencies. The only secure mode we have is optical transmissions, and we can't call home from out here using that."

The wolf breathed heavily. "Damnit. Fine. So what's our plan?"

"What are you talking about?"

"To rescue Terrany. What's Grey planning?" Milo gave his superior a blank stare, and Rourke exploded. "You mean he hasn't even started one?!"

"Rourke, you need to calm down. Take a step back, look at this…"

"Screw that." Rourke snapped. "He doesn't want to risk his neck, fine. I'll go after her myself." He turned around and started to walk back towards his Arwing.

Milo's paw clamped down on his wrist. "No. You're not."

Rourke went very still. "You want to keep that hand, Granger, you'll let go of me."

"No, sir, lieutenant." Milo told him coldly. "We're grounded. My plane is a wreck, and everyone else, including you, took some serious damage from the Primals in that last engagement. You aren't flying out of here, and you're not going after her. Not like this."

Rourke let out an angry grunt that rose from a growl to a crescendo and spun around, lashing out at Milo with a wild series of haymaker punches and ferocious kicks. Milo took the attack in strike, blocking every blow with greater concentration and precision than Rourke had, and after ten seconds of doing nothing but keeping Rourke from landing a hit, Milo slammed the heel of his palm into the wolf's stomach, then smashed a light, but quick roundhouse kick to the side of Rourke's head. The hit, combined with his fatigue, was enough to drop the last O'Donnell into a heap.

Breathing heavily, but not unconscious, Rourke lay on his side on the cool metal deck plating of the hangar bay. Moving suddenly _hurt, _and he was seeing stars.

Milo crouched down in front of him, looking into the face of his lead pilot with a saddened expression. "I'm older than you, with way more dents in the fender, and I've forgotten most of my hand to hand combat training. So how come I was able to mop the floor with you just then?"

"…Screw you, Granger." Rourke wheezed.

The raccoon sighed, and rested his hands on his knees. "Rourke…we're not giving up on her. But we're in no shape to go after her. We just got the tar beaten out of us, and we have to let Wyatt and his engineers put our ships back together before we go flying out there again. We need time to lick our wounds, or else the next time we go out, we won't come back at all. And we saved Skip."

"She saved Skip." Rourke shut his eyes, and grated his claws across the deck with a loud screech. "She felt the ambush before it happened. She sacrificed herself so we could get away. We didn't do anything. I…I didn't do a damn thing."

"That's not true and you know it." Milo helped Rourke get back up to his feet and dusted him off. "Come on."

"Debriefing?"

"Strangely, no." Milo shook his head. "Sleep. General Grey told us all to hit the sack. We're no good to anyone right now. I'll take care of Dana as soon as I get you to the elevator."

He trudged the wounded wolf to the turbolift and got him inside, but Rourke kept clinging to him even after. A haunted, hurting look marred Rourke's face, replacing the barely controlled rage he normally possessed.

"What do I do?" Rourke pleaded with the old war veteran. "Milo, what do I do?"

"You don't give up. You believe that we'll save her, Rourke. Because we will." Milo told him firmly, removing the wolf's hand. "This isn't over yet."

Whether weariness or real belief in Milo's promise had done it, Rourke slumped back against the wall of the elevator and nodded mutely. Milo pressed the button for the deck their rooms were on, and then stepped out of the lift before it closed. Only then, when the lead pilot of Starfox Team was on his way up, did Milo let his optimism slip away. Experience, the best teacher of all, told him a completely different story than what he'd fed to Rourke O'Donnell.

_We've lost her._

* * *

_The Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_The Hall of Antiquity_

After the _Wild Fox_, the beleaguered Arwings and their precious transport with its cargo had disappeared into subspace, Phoenix Squadron had been ordered to dock with the Primal fighter carrier _Flint and Forge_. Once aboard, they had been given respectable berthing, a room with four officer-sized bunks and its own refresher. Shortly thereafter, as Nome had tried to leave for a meal, he had been met at their door by four Primal troopers and respectfully, but firmly informed that for security reasons, the captain had been asked by the Tribunes themselves to keep them separated from others of the Armada. Fine meals had been brought to them twenty minutes after that, with the captain's personal note of apology and wishes that it met their liking.

Not quite honored guests, and not quite prisoners, Captain Telemos and his men were somewhere in a fuzzy gray area in between. Caught in that limbo, they could do nothing but eat, and shortly thereafter, sleep. Each of them had privately wondered what was to become of them now.

Only Telemos had wondered what was to become of Terrany McCloud. Such thoughts did nothing but enrage him further and dredge up those last painful moments of the fight. She had been fighting him with everything, and he was giving it everything he had, and their stalemate would have surely turned. But he would never know now who was the better, and it ate away at him. He wanted to scream. At her, for being so self-sacrificingly heroic. At the Armada, for interfering, denying him his victory. It was all such a waste.

_Such a waste_, he thought again, as he and his wingmen were escorted through the corridors of the Hall of Antiquity towards the hall where the Tribunes, the Primal's highest rank of authority both military and civilian, were waiting for them. Hushed whispers followed them on both sides as other Primals, their indoctrinated Simian cousins, and even the slaves who had been given the gift of a life in servitude, stepped out of their way. Everyone knew now that the Pale Demon had fallen. Surely everyone knew that Telemos and his men had been there, had fought them. Did those whispers come out of respect, out of fear?

Out of pity?

Unsurprisingly, as they neared the large and ominous stone doors that led to the Tribunal Chamber, Grandflight Gatlus approached. The most honored and venerable fighter pilot of the Armada had been spending quite a lot of time with the members of Phoenix Squadron whenever he had the chance. That irregularity was something Telemos had been grateful for in days past, but now, he felt a sudden chill of suspicion run down his spine.

"Grandflight." Telemos paused and bowed his head to the older Primal. Their guard escorts looked to him, displeased that their charges had stopped. "What are you doing here?"

"I had hoped to see you before the Tribunes brought you in to session." Gatlus explained, an unspoken apology in his tone. "There is much I wish to know about your engagement."

Telemos champed down on the quick and angry retort that was his first reaction, and settled for a curt, but more polite shake of his head. "It will have to wait."

"True. The Tribunes wait for no one." Gatlus exhaled sagely. He stepped to the side. "Seek me out after, though."

"You think there will be an after?" Telemos raised an eyebrow, his hands balled by his waist. "The Tribunes do not reward failures."

Gatlus shrugged and walked away. The abruptness of his departure only served to make Telemos even angrier, because it caused him to rail silently, _why did you even bother to come if you were just going to leave?!_

The brief interlude done with, the lead guards pushed the heavy doors open, and beckoned Telemos and his three men inside. Somewhere underneath his angry sea of thoughts, Telemos had a shipwreck of memory from the last time he had been here. They had stripped him of his title and honor. There was only one thing left for them to take now, and with a start, Telemos realized he honestly did not care.

Because of that postulation, when they stood before the Tribunes in their pedestal-raised chairs, he did not stand at attention, fearful and cowering, like Lashal, Nomen, and Vodari did. Telemos stood with his feet planted apart in a warrior's stance, his arms at his side, and his head raised up defiantly towards them. _Do your worst, then_, he said silently. _Put an end to this cruel joke._

"Captain Telemos. Phoenix Squadron." The lead Tribune spoke. The lights were dimmed, and the remaining beams focused to the platform below where Telemos and his three wingmates were standing. It prevented those in the Tribune's presence from looking on their faces; a theatrical bit of flair, one meant to intimidate. "It was not long ago that the issue of Tinder Squadron was brought before this chamber. At the time, we Tribunes decided to spare your lives, and give you another chance to prove your value to the Armada and to the Lord of Flames."

Telemos said nothing. Even in his foul disposition, there was some element of common sense at play. One only spoke when the Tribunes demanded it.

"You were given our most advanced spacefighters, born of modern innovation and ancestral technology, and renamed. Since then, you have trained relentlessly, but you have not seen active duty. That is, until this morning." Again, Telemos heard no question in the imperious Primal's words, and so kept to his silence. "There were no orders given. There was no report of the crippled Arwing until the signals briefing this morning. Yet by the time that the Armada had mobilized, you were not here. You were already gone…already there. There is no denying this: Your own ship's navigation records confirm it. So tell us, Captain Telemos…what were you thinking?"

And there it was. Before passing sentence, they wished to know his state of mind. The Primal pilot almost laughed. The Tribunes rarely required an excuse for their sentences. "If the report was real, then it would have been a valuable prize for capture. A damaged Arwing, the secret weapon of our Cornerian enemies? I could not pass that up. Nor could you, Tribune: I am surprised you sent so many ships, but the number tells me how much it was worth to you."

Beside him, Lashal seemed to offer a small grunt of concern. He had reason to: Telemos was skating on the thin edge of contempt. Telemos ignored it and stared up at the gathered faceless Tribunes, waiting for their reaction.

"Are you saying that you deliberately altered the signals report so you and your Squadron could…do this alone?" The Tribune questioned. Now, the anger finally came about. "What were you thinking?"

The proper thing to do here would be to let the Tribunes guide the discussion. A normal soldier would stammer, beg forgiveness, throw himself on what little mercy the Tribunes possessed. Telemos looked from the corners of his eyes to his men, seeing that they were silently pleading with him to do exactly that.

Phoenix 1 glanced back up and met his superiors with a dark stare. "You gave us the Phoenix spacefighters because we, and we alone, met Starfox and survived. When the other Squadrons trained in their Helions, it was my men and I who taught them what to expect. And when Starfox and their lesser Arwing allies arrived to rescue their fallen comrade, we were ready for them. You gave us a mighty weapon, and ever since then, we have done nothing, _nothing_, but sit on the sidelines while you let the other Ace Squadrons deploy. It has not helped you. Meteor Squadron is gone. The world our enemies call Darussia is lost, and before that, Papetoon. We are not a shield you can cower behind. We are a _spear_, and to use us for anything else is sheer folly."

"Telemos, shut up…" Lashal hissed, but his commander raged on, shaking a fist up at the Tribunes.

"Entire Squadrons are lost in their wake, but we four, we endure. We _survive!_"

"And you succeed." The lead Tribune finally spoke, a note of begrudging respect in his voice. "The Lord of Flames is pleased with your efforts. Though you acted without orders, though you acted rashly, you struck a heavy blow and won a great victory. But be assured of something, Captain: Our Lord's patience is thin. Today He honors you. Upset him tomorrow, and you will be less than nothing. Because of Phoenix Squadron, the enemy Arwings that escaped are battered and in need of repair. The Pale Demon sits in a prison cell, ready to be interrogated."

_So she is alive still?_ Telemos blinked at that piece of news. He would have thought they would kill her immediately, but…no. Tactically, it made more sense to use her as a source of information. For the moment.

"I wish to see the Pale Demon." Telemos said, far more rationally than his earlier ravings.

"That is out of the question. She is to be seen by a Geasbreaker. He will wring the secrets of our enemies out of her. She will have no other visitors."

"But…"

"Our decision on this point is final." Came the stern rebuke. "But, on the topic, there is something else we have to inform you of."

Telemos raised his head. He was shocked to find that he'd bowed it at the news that Terrany, still alive, was even farther away than when she and he were in their fighters. "Yes?"

"We have decided that your actions, while reckless, were brave and in the best traditions of the Primal Armada. Hence, you are no longer Telemos the outcast. Your noble rank and name are restored."

By such words, Telemos regained everything he had lost. He was once more Captain Telemos Fendhausen of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance. With it came his lost honor, his place in Primal society, all the privileges denied him for too many days. He was vaguely aware of this transformative event, and of the rest of Phoenix Squadron clapping hands to his back as they were led out of the Tribunal Chambers. Even somber Lashal was suddenly cheerful again, for now, surely, his commander would be as he once was. Grandflight Gatlus's odd warning about how Telemos would collapse into a breakdown seemed so far from reality now. Everything was right with the world, and the tide had turned in the Primal's favor at last.

It was all noise to Telemos. He walked in a haze of his own making, swept up by his wingmen, by other Primal warriors as they made their way to the drinking hall. Liquor and celebrations and debauchery were the way of it, a heroes' rest for them all.

The dull ache inside his chest did not leave. He drank with his men, he took wagers, he looked away as the more energetic partygoers got into fights while he watched along the back wall. Telemos knew he was missing something. A piece of himself was gone, burned away, and it had not returned as he had hoped it would.

At last, he understood why. He had not beaten The Pale Demon. He had not died at her hands. Everything else beyond that denied, fated duel was nothing but dust and noise.

Dust and noise.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Hangar Bay_

Wyatt Toad was good and frustrated now. Oh, sure, everybody was sad and depressed. He felt the loss of Terrany as keenly as anyone, and he'd grown to like Skip's little sister a great deal in the short time that she had been a part of his life. But mostly, Wyatt was frustrated.

Beside him, his right-hand bear Ulie Darkpaw saw his friend and boss simmering under his green skin. There was no secret to the cause of Wyatt's peculiar, stroke-inducing rage; a mess of damaged Arwings, some slightly, and others…well, not so slightly…were arranged in a tidy pile away from the lifts which led to the launch bay below. With a trace of sardonic wit, Ulie thought that the five and a half Arwings (Because surely what was left of Milo's Seraph was only half a plane at this point) resembled a stack of paperwork in poor office stooge's inbox.

"We just got the _Wild Fox_ operational again." Wyatt finally spoke. He'd said nothing for nearly a full minute and a half, and his raspy voice jarred Ulie from his thoughts. "And only just. We killed ourselves getting that much done."

"Yeah. But it's a war. There's always going to be more work for us to do." The black bear tried to soften the blow of it.

"Ulie…you and the boys are like the walking dead right now." Wyatt grumbled. "Right now, the only thing I want _anybody_ doing is sleeping, eating, and relaxing. Tired mechanics make mistakes, and when there's G-Diffuser realignments to be done, mistakes are easy and dangerous."

"Yeah, that's true, all right." Ulie shoved his hands into the pockets of his hydraulic fluid-stained trousers. "So. General Grey wanted an estimate on the repairs."

"…You're joking."

"It's Grey. Does he ever joke?"

"Only to have fun at Rourke's expense." Wyatt pulled off his cap and rubbed the top of his moistened head. "He wants a frigging estimate? Fine." The chief engineer of Project Seraphim stared around the mess of broken spacefighters again. "A week."

"A _week?"_ Ulie repeated, dumbstruck. Given how quickly they'd gotten Arwings up and running before, a full seven days seemed like a ridiculous padded estimate, even with some much-needed time off for the engineering teams.

Wyatt's rage boiled up again. "Does he plan on throwing what's left of his pilots into battle without giving them some time to put themselves back together again?"

"Well…no…"

"Then you tell that pipe-smoking fleabag that we'll need a week, and he'd best not schedule any missions until eight days from now." Wyatt resecured his hat. "Remember, Ulie, this isn't everything we need to fix."

And then Ulie recalled there was a seventh damaged Arwing sitting in the belly of the Albatross transport…still waiting to be offloaded.

"Damn."

"You know, Rourke and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but there's something he likes to say which I think applies well here." Wyatt went on coolly. "_It never ends._"

"Not for us engineers, no." Ulie smiled weakly.

"Not for anyone." Wyatt amended.

* * *

_17__th__ Day of the Primal War_

_Cornerian Space Command_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

Though Major General Winthrop Kagan was, technically, the supreme authority of the intelligence branch of the SDF and thus beyond reproach by the Forces Chiefs, they nonetheless took every opportunity to belittle and minimize Kagan…behind closed doors, of course. Pricks though they were, they had more sense than to try and badmouth him in front of his staff. In private, though, they had been particularly bitter towards him. The Primals had been all too happy to broadcast that "The Pale Demon" had been captured, and was even now being interrogated. The SDF had immediately denounced it as propaganda, a feeble effort by the Primals to dishearten and intimidate their enemies.

Then the next narrow-beam broadcast had flown in from Katina, and Kagan had learned from General Grey directly that the Primals hadn't been lying. There were other details, of course, but there was no escaping the bad news. When he'd given his report to the Forces Chiefs, it had been quite short and curt.

_One: The Wild Fox was operational again, meaning that Starfox and their support Arwing Squadron were no longer confined to the jaunts they could take from Katina._

_ Two: They had led a daring rescue mission and retrieved the comatose Carl McCloud, reported MIA and presumed KIA. It would be some time before the original lead pilot of Project Seraphim was back in fighting form, but that was the start of a good thing._

_ Three: In the process of rescuing Carl McCloud, they had lost Terrany. The reports indicated she'd thrown herself into harm's way, sacrificed herself so the others could get away._

_ Four: Of the others in Starfox and the 21__st__ Squadron, only two Arwings were in particularly decent shape, and estimates were that it would be a week before the survivors of the debacle were ready for deployment._

_Oh, and a side note…that ship which resembles the Saucerer mothership Andross attacked Katina with during the Lylat Wars, only several times bigger? It's airborne now, and they're probably going to throw it at us real soon._

Naturally, they were peevish at that. None of those details were good for morale, and after the hard-fought victory over Darussia, they needed far more good news. There was just none to offer them. And then Zamrust had started railing in about how Terrany would spill her guts about everything, and the secrets of the Arwings, of Project Seraphim, all the other dinky little details which kept the Primals flying even marginally blind, would be lost. He suggested that they send a swarm of missiles at Venom and bombard it into the stone age; it wasn't about rescuing her, no. It was about minimizing the risk.

Kagan had managed to refrain from punching that sorry excuse of an officer. How, he still wondered. Perhaps that was his best quality, why Grey had pushed him further on until the student surpassed his mentor. Kagan rarely reacted. He spent more time with his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open. Now after the fact, Kagan had a sudden juvenile thought as to why they were really angry…No Starfox meant that they, and by extension, the troops under their command, would have to fight all the harder against a determined enemy.

And here the lynx sat in his quiet office once again, with all the information of the SDF and the re-established spysat network at his disposal, and none of it able to supply what he wanted, what he needed to know. He wanted to talk, but there was only one person in this entire mess who he'd ever been able to talk to. And he was on an entirely different planet.

Kagan hadn't left Corneria City since the war had started. True, the bulk of his duties meant he had to be here, but…

Not for the first time, he drummed his fingers restlessly on his desk. Weariness combined with a desire to do _something_, and he punched his phone's intercom button. The base operator came on the line a half second later.

_"Yes, General Kagan?"_

"Arrange a direct flight to Katina for myself. The sooner, the better."

_"Uh…yes, sir." _The CSC attendant, military himself of course, clacked away at his keyboard. There was a pause as he checked his information. _"The Gullwing Spacefarer can be ready to fly in twenty hours." _Kagan nodded to himself; it was good that they kept smaller, faster transports on hand for SDF personnel.

"Set it up. I'll be going alone. Cargo manifest…just mark it as personal effects for now."

_"Yes, general. Will there be anything else?"_

"If anyone calls for me…let them know I've stepped out of the office. Don't say where."

_"This is a classified trip, General?"_

Kagan smiled. "Use my alias for the passenger list." He punched his phone off and leaned back in his chair. Personal effects. A set of clothes, toiletries…

And a new batch of Omega Black transceivers.

* * *

_In Orbit over Katina_

_Wild Fox_

_11:42 A.M. _

Nurse Ermsdale's shift didn't start for another four hours, and Dr. Bushtail was sequestered in his office, glancing over biometrics and EEG readouts from the last disastrous mission. There was one patient in the Medical Bay, and one visitor. Ordinarily, this would cause the simian to be more sociable, but he had given up on that last night. Somehow, conversing with a mute tigress and a comatose vulpine was never as exciting as others made it seem.

Carl McCloud's escape pod had been cut out of the wreckage of his disabled Arwing and transferred to the _Wild Fox_ as soon as it touched down on the landing pad at their familiar Katina airbase. In the sterile and controlled conditions his workspace provided, Dr. Bushtail and the base orderlies had gingerly removed his cryofrozen body and transferred it to the waiting dunk tank of antibacterial restorative gel that they used for severe injuries. It served double duty, also creating the conditions necessary to thaw him out…slowly.

Alone, Dana stroked the surface of the tank, staring at the unconscious form inside. She had dressed down into civilian clothes, a form-hugging T-Shirt and sweat pants, and hadn't left Carl's side since he'd arrived. This pitiable sight was what greeted Milo as the raccoon stepped into the Medical Bay. The former sniper was dressed in his usual fatigues, and he paused, noting that Dana didn't even look up at him.

"We missed you at our sparring session this morning." He ventured slowly.

"I didn't feel like training. Besides, you and Rourke don't need me there. We're not going anywhere for a while."

"Just because all our ships are in the shop doesn't mean we get to slack off and let our edge atrophy." The raccoon told her. "Like it or not, we're still needed."

"I'm needed here." Dana didn't break her posture away from the tank that contained the floating body of her lover. "And I'm not leaving. I can't believe you can be so apathetic."

Milo stared at the back of her head. "I care about Carl as much as anybody, girl. I might not have been the animal he was shagging, but he's my friend."

"Really?" Dana scoffed and whirled on him. Her eyes were red from too many tears and too little sleep. "Then why is it this is the first time you've set foot in here since we brought Carl aboard? Why is it that you didn't say a single encouraging word to me since we got back?" She jammed a claw under his nose. "You haven't even taken off that damn uniform!"

"You're a civilian. I'm army. Maybe I dress in what I'm comfortable in. And you'd best ease off the throttle before you say something you'll regret."

"Or what? You might drop that ridiculous act you cling to of the smiling, emotionless military drone and act like you have a heart for a change?!" She snapped.

Milo didn't rise up to the barb. Instead, his eyes softened, and his voice went quieter still. "It's not your fault."

Dana collapsed against the side of the tank with that. She struggled with her voice, finding it strangled, and Milo took the silence as an excuse to add a little more.

"She would have gone anyway." He explained. "So don't put her loss on yourself. You do that, then you're no good to anyone."

Dana shut her eyes, and the fur around them grew damp from her tears. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

If it was possible, Dana shriveled even more from the question. She choked back a sob and looked to Carl McCloud, bobbing in his tank.

"When Terrany first came to Ursa Station, I prayed every night that she'd be sent back and we'd have Carl back. I would have thrown her under a bus to get him back. And now…Now…" There was no stopping the tears after that.

Milo closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. So that was it.

A month later, countless battles later, Dana's errant wish about Terrany and Carl had come true. And not being able to take it back was killing her.

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_Detention Center 8_

_18__th__ Day of the Primal War_

A Geasbreaker was one of the most feared titles in the Armada. The masters of extracting knowledge through multiple means, they specialized in wearing down prisoners, peeling them apart layer by layer, and then learning their deepest secrets. The Primals had fought many species in their home star cluster and on the long, multi-generational voyage to home. Some had fallen easily. Some had been tougher nuts to crack. The Ildans, in particular, had been remarkably stubborn and resistant in battle, and as prisoners. Their resistance to physical pain and hardship, lack of sleep and food, had been noteworthy.

It had taken a Geasbreaker two weeks to crack an Ildan general they had captured. After that, the knowledge of their defenses allowed the Primals to destroy the Ildan resistance, in spite of their remarkably effective weapons. Faced with the choice of total annihilation or servitude, the Ildans had surprisingly chosen to capitulate while something of their civilization still stood.

And now their missiles filled the Primal fighters' missile bays.

The Geasbreaker assigned to Terrany had been given three objectives: Learn as much of the inner workings of the next-generation Arwing as possible, probe her knowledge of the Cornerian's weaknesses, and leave the Pale Demon bare and exposed as a raw nerve. The Tribunes wanted her broken, shivering, and defeated, begging for mercy. It would be all the better, so his superior had explained to him with dark relish, that she be reduced to a pitiful example for the cameras when they had her executed. The transmission of her final demise would be used as psychological warfare against their enemies.

In a corridor that was empty of any other living soul aside from the Pale Demon, escorted by a pair of helmeted guards, Geasbreaker Rolfe strolled casually towards an interrogation room set aside specifically for his use. When he entered it, he found the Pale Demon already present.

Her hands were tied behind the back of the chair, and her legs were strapped to it as well. A single lamp shone brightly from its perch on the ceiling, aimed at her. Rolfe glanced up to the corner of the ceiling and noted that the camera was already recording. Good.

The female pilot's head lolled on her shoulders, and after he shut the door behind him, she looked up. She had been stripped of almost all of her clothing, leaving her the single undershirt she'd been wearing when she came in, and her underdrawers. That was a part of the psychological processing: Stripping a soldier of their uniform took away one of the items that they might use to continue resisting. Again, the Geasbreaker thought to himself that she would have made a fine addition to the comfort slaves in different circumstances. A pity she was a warrior, which was unheard of in Primal society. Women were the lifegivers, the bearers of healthy sons to be offered up to service for the Lord of Flames. They had but one place.

So very strange that the Cornerians thought otherwise.

She glared at him through her bruised face. He'd opened up a few minor cuts around her eyes on past visits, and the blood had matted her white fur into messy clumps. "Fuck off."

"And hello to you, too." Rolfe said with mock pleasantness. He was careful not to indicate whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening. Time deprivation was another part of the carefully scripted program that the Geasbreakers used to shatter the resistance of their prisoners. The brown-furred Primal set down the case of equipment he had brought in with him on the table in front of Terrany, then removed his gloves with a slow and practiced motion. "I thought we might pick up where we left off."

"What makes you think…you'll get anything outta me, bastard?"

Rolfe allowed himself a small, cunning smile. "Experience, my dear. I must admit, you are an unusual specimen." They had been limiting her food intake, but making sure she was receiving enough fluids. They wanted her weakened, not dying, after all. In combination with sleep deprivation and an erratic schedule of interrogations, he and the guards under his command had been whittling away at her. And there were cracks beginning to show. Not many…somehow, just when he thought he was beginning to get somewhere with her, she seemed to draw out of herself a newfound resolve and endure it.

Rolfe opened up his case, making sure the lid was arranged so she could not see the contents within. Though she tried to seem disinterested, he caught her watching him out of the corner of her heavy-lidded eye. The Geasbreaker smiled, and palmed one of the objects within.

"Apparently, when they picked you up, you had on a most unusual helmet. It seemed designed to communicate with you directly. Tell me, what mechanism did those electrostuds serve?"

"Better than drinking coffee." Terrany mumbled.

Rolfe chuckled. "My, aren't we full of pepper today? Let's see if we can change that." Before she could react, he snapped his arm up and slammed the object in his fist down into her chest, punching through skin, fur, and clothing alike. She let out a yelp of surprise and pain as the syringe, which the Geasbreaker had carefully selected, did its work. The dark orange liquid in the central chamber was forced into her body, and quickly moved into her bloodstream.

Rolfe pulled the now empty syringe away, set it back in his case, and then wiped his hands off with a small towel. "We've tried some milder sedatives on you before, but you seem particularly…hard to convince. So I thought we might try something a little stronger on this visit."

Whatever he had used on Terrany was clearly having an immediate effect. She was beginning to shiver, and her breathing was shallower than before.

"We found this compound on another war expedition during the long journey to our homeworld. The natives of that backwards planet harvested it from plants and used them in their heathen rituals. When concentrated, the hallucinogenic compound within their "sacred leaf" can actually be quite disruptive. You may feel your body beginning to revolt against you. I'm told that it sometimes burns in the blood, if a person has an allergic reaction to it."

Terrany jerked her head back and screamed her lungs hoarse, then slumped forward, blacking out. The Geasbreaker waited a few moments, and as he'd believed, she slowly came out of it. The pain, while intense, wasn't strong enough to block the psychoreactive processes from burning her brain into a state of reality-warping hyper-alertness. Everything became too real. Sensations that were mild became harmful. Pain became agony. A whisper became a yell.

The Red Noise was perhaps one of his favorite chemical tools.

His smile died on his face when he looked at her. It wasn't fear he saw in her eyes. That cold, almost alien look she held in her firmest moments of resistance had returned. When she should have been babbling out every thought in her head to try and silence the demons that the drug had released, she was instead serenely focused.

"So now what?" She asked, in an almost mechanical tone.

Masking his scowl, for he did not dare show weakness in front of her and transfer the control of the situation over, Geasbreaker Rolfe reached into his case of tools once more.

"Now I stop being civil."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_In Orbit Above Katina_

It had come as a bit of a surprise to Katina Space Command, the smaller sister facility of the CSC back in Corneria City, when a Gullwing Spacefarer with civilian plates asked for docking privileges with the _Wild Fox_. What was even more unusual was that General Grey, the commanding officer aboard the SDF's powerful Arwing transport, technically not even owned by the SDF, had cleared the docking in a heartbeat. Whatever was going on in orbit, the ground control officer had rationalized to his CO, must have been something above their clearance.

They weren't far off. Even as General Winthrop Kagan was stepping off of his plane and onto the decking of the hangar bay, General Grey was stepping over to meet him.

The lynx and the old hound embraced each other warmly, although Kagan could feel the tension in his former teacher's shoulders. He stepped back and offered a sympathetic smile. "You look like hell."

"The others feel worse than I do." Grey shrugged. The fatigue in his eyes didn't go away. "What brings you here, Winthrop? I passed along everything I knew in my last report."

Kagan started to speak, but then paused as the decking underneath their feet began to move, shuttling his small transport to an open parking spot. "I think we'd best find someplace quieter to talk."

Grey looked around for a moment and grunted. "My office, then. The turbolift's this way."

They proceeded out of the _Wild Fox's_ lower decks and made for the lift, and Grey shoved his pipe back in his mouth. He reached for a pack of matches, struck one, and set the flame to the bowl.

"Smoking again? I thought you'd quit." General Kagan told his old friend.

Grey puffed away at it and shook the match to extinguish it. "This war changed my mind. Not like it matters. The robot that keeps this ship running right keeps the smell from bothering anyone else. He even dropped a personal force field on me once on the bridge." The doors hissed shut and Grey punched the button for Deck One. He looked over to the lynx. "You do know he can hear us no matter where we go?"

"I imagine that the crew finds his spying ability a little awkward." The leader of the CSC remarked.

"Well, there's no helping it, I'm afraid. At least he's not one to gossip." Grey took in a long, satisfying draw of tobacco-filled air into his lungs. "Just so you know not to expect complete secrecy."

"So long as he keeps it to himself, I'm fine with it."

"Got that, ROB?" Grey growled at the ceiling. A tiny speaker in the corner of the lift crackled.

_"As ordered, General Grey."_

A dumbfounded Kagan looked to Grey, and the old hound shrugged with an amused smile. "You get used to him."

Three minutes later, after introducing himself to the bridge crew and wishing them well, Kagan stepped into Grey's office and went over to the side table, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the thermos brought up by the galley staff. He took a tentative sip and nodded appreciately. "Just a pinch of salt, no sugar. Good navy coffee."

"Our head chef's called Pugs. You might know him: Pugs Femmick?" Grey walked back around his desk and eased into his chair.

"Oh, yeah. I thought he was retired these days, working in the private sector."

"I asked him once what brought him into Project Seraphim. He told me it was for the money that Arspace was paying him. Me, I think he did it because he missed the excitement." Grey chuckled, folding his arms over his stomach. "I guess he's gotten plenty of that now, though." Kagan nodded and took another drink of his coffee, and General Grey prodded the pregnant pause.

"All right. So we shook hands, you drank some coffee, we made small talk. So why are you really here, Winthrop?"

The lynx finished off the steaming hot cup of joe in three quick swallows, set the empty mug down, and exhaled a cloud of steam. "All right. Fact is, the Joint Chiefs are trying to be real dicks over this mess. They're wanting to advise the Senate that Team Starfox isn't a winning formula for this war…that you're wild cards, you play things dangerously, and that you'd be better off folded into the existing chain of command. In other words, they want to reverse the General Order I gave concerning all Arwing fighters being under Starfox's command during military engagements…make Starfox, and this ship, a force under the control of the SDF proper."

Grey leaned back, puffing away. "I hope you told those stuffed shirts where they could stick it."

"Well, not so colorfully." Kagan offered, smiling weakly. "Zamrust even wanted to bombard Venom into glass, just to make sure that they'd kill Terrany in the process."

"That's Army for you." Grey spat out. "Attacking Venom, where the bulk of their forces are massed, would be suicide for the Fleet. We barely got Darussia back, and that's because we hit them hard; Starfox, Growler Flight, and we dropped in that Landmaster. We can't do that kind of an operation."

"Yeah. I said as much. He shut up about it, at least." Kagan drummed his fingers on the edge of Grey's desk. "How bad is it, anyways? I passed along what you said in your report, but I was hoping that you might have padded things a little."

"Nope. Sorry, sport. Wyatt, through his Chief Mechanic, said a week. So it's a week. He doesn't pad estimates. He always gives it to me straight. It's going to take at least as long for the pilots to recover as well."

"Yeah." Kagan nodded. Pilots didn't react well to losing one of their own. They never had. In his experience, the crews that manned aircraft, whether they were Arwings or Arbiters, had a sort of ingrained sense of invincibility. To have that belief torn from them, no matter who they were, left them reeling. And in the course of the short weeks of the war, both Starfox and the 21st Squadron had dealt with it more than they should have ever had to.

Kagan looked off to the side of the room, catching the view of the window in the office. It let him look out over Katina from their orbiting view, and how small the still mostly brown planet looked.

"How's Commander McCloud doing?"

"Still a vegetable."

"Shame. It might help the situation if he was at least awake."

Grey looked to the younger superior officer. "That's a damn cold thing to say."

Kagan nodded. "I guess this job has changed me, old man. I never used to worry about the politics." He turned his gaze from the window and focused on the Brigadier General again. "So tell me something, Arnie. The rescue operation…Was it a trap?"

Grey didn't flinch. "Does it matter?" Kagan gave a noncommittal shrug, which only angered the old hound further. "Either they picked up the same signal we did, or they had a squadron of fighters waiting to jump them. It wouldn't have changed the outcome."

"Have you been able to review the flight data?"

"Some." Grey tapped his corncob pipe's contents out into an ashtray and let the remaining scraps of tobacco smolder away. "We know that Terrany had a hunch about something being off before anyone else did. Even with that, these new Primal starfighters were…pretty damaging. Just from what we were able to take from the recovered Arwings, the new configuration had a combination of stealth technology and some sort of short-range teleportation we've never seen before…and enough firepower to light up an entire SDF battle group."

Kagan shut his eyes. "If they were throwing them at you as some sort of a test, Arnie, we could be looking at a whole new war. One we're not ready to fight."

"You think that they might start mass producing these new fighters?"

"They almost wiped out two squadrons of Arwings." Kagan said tersely, showing the first real sign of irritation. "It's the equalizer to your Seraphs. You could barely handle four of these things. If I were the Primals, I would be building these new black ships in droves."

Kagan got up from his seat and paced nervously. Grey watched his former pupil through slitted eyes. He tapped his pipe against the ashtray a second time, then stuck the now empty device back in his mouth.

"We've taken our fair share of lumps in this war, Winthrop. This ship, these Arwings, this program. But we haven't stopped yet."

Kagan offered up a cold laugh at that. "To review, you just lost your best pilot, who's now a prisoner of war and probably getting her brain picked clean by the Primals. Project Seraphim's former top pilot is recuperating and still comatose, your planes are grounded, and the Primals just proved once and for all that our most advanced plane is not only inadequate to the task at hand…it's woefully inferior to what they can put up on the board. The Joint Chiefs want your head and this ship and program under their control. All the momentum we had after Darussia's been shot to hell because Terrany's capture is public knowledge. Tell me, is there anything I missed?"

General Grey stood up to his full height, somehow broadening out his chest and shoulders to a breadth that made the three star general in charge of the CSC remember how imposing he really was. The old wardog, descended from the Ace pilot Bill Grey himself, affixed the lynx with the hardest, most disapproving straight glare he had in him.

"One thing you missed. They haven't given up yet. And I'm not giving up on them."

Kagan sighed softly, and returned to his seat. "You may not have the choice. You drilled it in my head, old man. Leadership means that when something goes wrong, it's always your fault. And they're saying that this mess…it's all yours."

"They're not wrong." Grey deadpanned. "I should have stopped them. I should have grounded their planes and ordered them back to bed. I didn't, and because they flew off tired, sore, and in planes which hadn't been serviced properly, we nearly lost everything. And that's on me. But I want you to remind the Joint Chiefs of one thing when you fly back to Corneria, General Kagan."

It wasn't often that the old man addressed him by his rank in private. Kagan sat up a little straighter. "What's that?"

"The Seraph Arwings are owned by Arspace. This mothership, it's owned by Terrany, and by extension, her brother. So they can fire me…but they won't get their hands on the toys like they think they will."

Kagan blinked. "In this day and age, Arnie, it's pretty dangerous to be a mercenary. Some in the Senate think that Starfox, for all the good that it's doing, is no better than the space pirates were."

Grey couldn't help the smile. "I'm pretty sure our own pirate would say there's a difference."

* * *

_Katina_

_Sallwey Province_

Rourke had made the drive out here once before, but it was new to Milo. They could have driven out in the same vehicle, but Rourke had surprised his sergeant by insisting, in an empty tone of voice, that he needed to drive something else. The something else was a bike that had been picked up by the Deckmore AFB Military Police, and carefully kept in storage. A vintage Hagley hovercycle, which had belonged to Max McCloud, inherited by Terrany…And which was now coming home.

Without its owner.

It was nearly dark by the time they pulled up to the McCloud household, the Hagley thundering in the quiet neighborhood. Rourke let the motorcycle dwindle from an idle to a full shutoff and removed the key from the ignition.

Milo got out of his rented sedan and looked over to Rourke. "You sure you want to do this, lieutenant?" He could see that Rourke's fingers were tense on the throttle, his claws almost popping out.

"No. I don't." But he was doing it anways, and Milo nodded respectfully.

"What will you tell her?"

"The truth." Rourke said. "She deserves it."

"She'll hate us for it. Hate you for it."

Rourke stepped off of the motorcycle and looked at Milo over his shoulder with a bitter smile. "She hated me already." The gray wolf walked to the front door, lifted his hand woodenly, and knocked twice. With Milo moving to stand behind him, the last O'Donnell waited as long, painful seconds passed. At length, the door opened, and the houses' sole occupant looked out of the crack.

Julia McCloud gripped the door so tightly that her claws popped out of their sheaths. Her eyes were red, and the fur beneath them was wet and matted from too many tears. Her jaw clenched tightly as her snout poked out towards them. She looked mutely from Milo and fixated her gaze on Rourke's face. Whatever wall of resolve she had hoped to keep dissipated in an instant.

"You son of a bitch." She choked out. Rourke stood there, not reacting, taking the verbal blow. "No calls. No letter. They send you?"

"It was my choice." Rourke answered, staying unusually civil. "I wanted you to hear it from us."

"I've already heard it. The entire Lylat System's heard it. My daughter's gone. She's gone, and you took her from me!" Mrs. McCloud screamed at him. Milo started to move forward to speak, but Rourke held his arm out and blocked him off. The older sergeant gave his flight lead a quizzical glance, and Rourke shook his head. The wolf turned back to Terrany's mother.

"Can we come in?"

Her answer was to slam the door in their faces. Milo winced at the loud bang of wood on wood.

"Well. That's that, then."

"We're not done here." Rourke growled. He stayed by the door, and yelled into it. "You want to keep blaming me? Fine! But I want you to know that I miss her just as much as you do! For Creator's sake, I cared about her! I told her to fall back, but she didn't. And do you want to know why?! For Carl! She stayed there, flying in that furball, hopelessly outnumbered, to save _Carl!_" Angrily, Rourke pounded the door with his fist. "She was the best part of this team, and now that she's gone, I don't know how to pick up the pieces, all right? I don't even know what I'm supposed to do now! All I knew was that you deserved the truth, as good or awful as it is, and that I had to give it to you!"

Milo winced again at the ferocity behind Rourke's words. He knew them as truth, but he'd never expected the closed-off O'Donnell to ever be so open with his emotions. Terrany really had left a mark on him. Now, it was an open wound.

Rourke's head slumped against the closed front door. "I…I wanted to bring her back, but I couldn't. She sacrificed herself to protect Carl. She told us…Carl was all that mattered. I knew she was wrong, but…It was too late. We all volunteered to go after him, but I knew better. We were dog tired and worn out. We had no business flying that mission. So go ahead, blame me. Hate me. I'm just an O'Donnell, right? O'Donnells and McClouds aren't supposed to get along. But don't take it out on yourself. You don't want to do that. Only one person gets to take the blame from this fuckup, and that's me." He shut his eyes, and the rage drained out of him. "That's me."

After the interminable silence, the door opened again, wider than before, forcing Rourke to stumble back. Crying again, Mrs. McCloud spoke in a softer tone. "Do you want to know why I was always so upset? It wasn't that she was in the military. McClouds…they always want to fly. They all served. I wasn't happy when she went to the Academy, but…it was what she wanted. I couldn't have stopped her."

Her face hardened. "It was all the secrets. From the moment she drove out into the Pheran Desert, I never got a straight answer from any of you. I didn't know where she was. I didn't know where Carl was. You were all so wrapped up in your secrets."

"The Primals have shown that they can monitor and intercept almost every transmission we send, encrypted or not." Milo pointed out. "Keeping secrets keeps us alive."

"They didn't this time." Rourke said raggedly. "All it really did was isolate us. Once we start keeping secrets, it's hard to know when to stop."

Terrany's mother looked at him. "And you came to tell me the truth then." Rourke nodded. "Why?" She demanded. "Because you feel guilty?"

"Because you deserve to hear it." Rourke said, his prior admission still ringing in his ears with damning clarity. "Does it matter how I feel?"

She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. "You're not what I expected from an O'Donnell."

"I was never a very good one." Rourke offered a wan smile.

Julia McCloud looked out to the driveway, finally noting the hoverbike sitting in it. "You brought the Hagley back home."

"Terrany said you must have towed it back the last time. I thought I'd save you some money."

"In the middle of a war, you're worried about money?" She let out a harsh laugh, but the smile his remark had caused was warm and genuine. "Thank you."

Rourke exhaled and slipped a hand into his jeans pocket. "Terrany told me that it belonged to her father."

"I never understood why he bought the thing in the first place." She shook her head. "I told him he was going to kill himself riding it. Instead of dying in a wreck, he died in his jet. I must have thought about selling it a hundred times after Max died, but…I never did. I told Carl he could have it, but he wasn't one for bikes, especially one as prone to problems as the Hagley."

She looked at it a moment longer, then stepped out of her house and walked over to it. She traced her fingers across the seat reverently. "But Terrany…I guess she had more of her father in her than even Carl had. My little girl spent three months when she wasn't in school working over this thing in the garage. Spent a lot of credits doing it, taught herself everything she needed to know about hovercycle maintenance…and when she was done, it ran even better than when Max had it." Julia smiled sadly. "Do you like bikes, Mr. O'Donnell?"

"It's just Rourke." The flight lead of the Starfox team clarified. "And yes. I actually fixed it up a little bit before we brought it here. Terrany stressed some of the joints the last time she drove it. It needed a little love."

"The bike isn't the only thing." Rourke took the opportunity to move a little closer and make his appeal. "Terrany is a prisoner, but she gave everything to save her brother. And right now, he needs you. His girlfriend needs you."

"Dana." Julia rubbed at her eyes. "I met her the last time you came. She seemed like a nice girl."

"Right now, she's as bad off as you are." Rourke went on. "Would you come back with us?"

"To the air base?"

"No. To the _Wild Fox._ It's in orbit."

Milo blinked. "Lieutenant, we haven't been given clearance to bring a civilian…"

"Milo, I think we can break protocol on this one."

"We usually break protocol, thanks to you." The raccoon groused, but didn't argue the point further. Rourke's heart was, uncharacteristically, in the right place. Milo had known Rourke since the start of the project, and back then, he'd been a sour, withdrawn individual who held a begrudging respect and loyalty to Carl, and no time or patience for anyone else. Being forced into the role of leader and having the lives of the others in his hands had changed him. Terrany had changed him most of all.

"So, will you?" Rourke asked Julia McCloud again.

The mother of Terrany and Carl McCloud looked over her shoulder at him, then slowly turned around. "Yes. But first, I'd better water my plants. You boys had better come in, I'll make you some tea." She strolled past them and opened up the front door, then called out loudly so they could hear as she went back inside the house, "And then you can tell me how many times you've had sex with my daughter."

The screen door slammed loudly, thanks to its spring, though Rourke still winced as if she'd yanked it shut on her own accord.

Milo chuckled nervously and rubbed at one of his ears. "Well. She's got your number."

"She scares me." Rourke said blankly.

Milo clapped a hand on his flight lead's shoulder and grinned. "That's what mothers do to their daughter's boyfriends."

* * *

_The Primal Homeworld_

_Detention Center 8_

The Geasbreaker, after working on the high value prisoner known as The Pale Demon for another long three hours without any results, took a moment of retreat to compose himself and re-energize with some nourishment. This also gave him the opportunity to contact the Tribunes…using the office space of the Detention Center's newly promoted Administrator, of course. That nervous and fidgeting Primal stood by the door to his office as Geasbreaker Rolfe popped another pheek pasty into his mouth and listened over the desk phone, one of the relics left behind by the prior Venomian residents back when this facility had been an ordinary prison under the control of the Cornerians who had lived here. A convoluted encryption device was attached to the phone by its circuit board, the plastic molding of the side ripped off for access.

"…Yes, Tribune. She has proven herself remarkably resilient to standard methods of interrogation." Rolfe listened again, swallowed, and gave off an unnerving smile. "Yes, even the Fornathian Cereburn." His smile faded quickly. "I know that what I'm doing is having an effect on her. There are times I see her beginning to crack. But then…it's almost like there's a separate side of her altogether which takes hold, and puts up fresh resistance. I've seen it before, where subjects develop new personalities to shelter themselves from the horrors of what they experience, but this is the most unusual case I can remember dealing with." Rolfe looked sharply over to the young Administrator, who quickly found some of the objects on a shelf more interesting to look at. "No, sir. I believe that standard methods will not produce the desired result this time around. With your permission, I would like to try something else."

There was another pause, and the sound of a muffled response. Rolfe listened, then provided an answer. "This prisoner seems to be able to ignore me, regardless of what I do…and since she is a high value target, and I cannot leave any lasting bodily harm, I would like to try something to crack open her mind. Bodily torture is doing nothing for us, anyway. There has only been one scrap of information she's given up; that "Telemos could do a better job at this than you." Tell me, Tribune, who is this Telemos?"

The Administrator's curiosity beat out his avoidance, and he looked over, waiting for the answer. Rolfe blinked. "A pilot? Really? The one who…Aah. I see." Rolfe scratched at his chin, thinking through the twisted confines of his mind for an answer. "Send him down. I think he may be the key to getting something more useful out of her." The voice on the other end of the line was louder, and more adamant this time. "Tribune, I wouldn't presume to tell you how to conduct this war for our homeworld. I would simply like to remind you that I have made a long career out of getting the answers others would not wish me to…and some of those prisoners have given up politically sensitive information in the past. You were elected to the Tribunal Council, what, seven years ago? It was quite the upset, as I recall. I would hate to think what the other Tribunes would do if they learned…hm?" The thinly veiled threat apparently had done its work, for Rolfe smirked. "Why, that would be most appreciated. I shall expect his arrival later today. I shall keep you posted of my results."

He hung up the phone and disconnected the scrambling device from it.

"Is there anything I…I can do to help you?" The Administrator asked hesitantly. He didn't want to prod into the conversation and upset the Geasbreaker, but perhaps offering assistance might smooth the ground between them. The Primal had no intention of being killed off like the former prison Administrator.

Geasbreaker Rolfe rubbed his hands together to clear the crumbs off of them and thought about the offer.

"Take the prisoner something to eat. We'll want her cognizant when our guest arrives."

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_Katina High Orbit_

The _Wild Fox_ was ordinarily a soothing presence to the SDF forces of Katina, but with her Arwing complement grounded for repairs, the mighty bird was running at vastly diminished strength. The news about Terrany McCloud being taken as a prisoner of war was even worse on morale, although everyone aboard the _Wild Fox_ had the good sense not to talk about it around their superiors or the pilots. Few knew that ROB, the robot which helped to keep the ship running smoothly, heard all their conversations regardless. Those that did chose to forget that fact as much as possible. As far as electrical espionage went, a robot who was old enough to be their grandfathers and was concerned solely with the safety of the ship and crew was one of the better options.

The ship supported the original Project Seraphim personnel and the crew of Ursa Station, and they had slowly been taking on additional help. Courtesy of Arspace, some of the engineers assigned to repair the mothership had stayed behind, eager for a chance to work on the Arwings. It was getting to the point now that they were able to assign shorter, more intensive shifts, a benefit for the go-getters who took after Wyatt Toad's style of labor: Work hard, then rest hard. Somehow, even with the influx, everyone was getting along pretty well, and they were all getting to know one another. If they had anything left to smile about, it was the sense of community they were building with one another. The sense of family.

That feeling was given a shock as a Rondo transport docked with the _Wild Fox_ and offloaded personnel who had gone planetside. Lieutenant Rourke O'Donnell and Sergeant Milo Granger had been expected, but they had brought a plus one with them. A middle aged vixen with pale fur glanced around as the two pilots escorted her towards the elevator. The technicians on duty took one look at her, and instantly pieced together who she was.

It was a quiet ride up the lift, and after that, down the corridor which led to the Medical Bay. Mrs. McCloud had said all she needed to with Rourke and Milo while they were visiting her house.

Upon entering the Medical Bay, Mrs. McCloud was met by the sight of her firstborn lying in a recovery bed, hooked up to vital monitors, a breathing tube, and an IV drip which supplied his nutrients. He was unconscious, but alive. Dana Tiger was collapsed against the foot of his bed, out cold after too many hours of keeping vigil.

Dr. Bushtail sidled into the Medical Bay from his office and went to greet them all. "Lieutenant. Sergeant. Mrs. McCloud. Glad you could make it. Your son's doing a bit better. We were able to pull him out of the Rejuvenator tank just today."

"Is he awake?"

Dr. Bushtail shook his head. "No. His injuries were quite severe, and there was some head trauma as well. We've done what we can, but…it's up to him to wake up. That's just how comas work. But he's alive…and though I can't perform a fully accurate EEG while he's comatose, it seems the neurological damage is minimal." The doctor gave his head a shake. "I've been spending more time staring at brain scans than X-Rays lately."

Mrs. McCloud offered the barest nod of recognition, then moved to her son's bedside. On impulse, she reached down and took his untethered hand into her own. She squeezed it gently and looked to the monitor. His pulse remained slow and steady.

Her presence caused Dana to stir, and the tigress looked up at her in surprise. The mother of her comatose lover glanced down to the other woman in Carl's life and smiled sadly. "I was hoping he might wake up if I held his hand."

Dana's eyes misted up. "Me too." She whispered. "Mrs. McCloud…I…"

"Honey, you were sleeping with my son." The elder vixen said with a soft chuckle. "I think we're to the point you can call me Julia."

Dr. Bushtail cleared his throat. "Well. I'll leave you two alone. Try and talk to him. Sometimes, comatose patients are aware of people speaking around them. Maybe you can get through to him, make him come out of it." The simian looked over to Rourke. "Lieutenant, a word?"

"Yeah, sure." Rourke gave Mrs. McCloud an understanding nod and left her, Dana, and Milo to converse by his sleeping superior officer and friend. Dr. Bushtail walked back into his office and waited until Rourke was inside, then closed the door behind him.

The move made Rourke suspicious. "Something wrong, doc?"

"Nothing more than the usual. But I didn't want our visiting relative to hear this conversation." Sherman Bushtail removed his white lab coat and hung it up, then sat down at his desk. He sighed as he did, then rubbed at his temples. A trifle nervous, Rourke took the patient's chair opposite of him.

"Well?"

The base doctor who had been assigned to Project Seraphim turned his computer monitor about halfway, allowing himself and Rourke an equal view of it. From the look of the data, he'd been going over mission biometrics records. "Since you've all been grounded, and Carl's pretty much a vegetable, I've had some time on my hands to go back and look at your flight recorder data. When the _Wild Fox_ warp gated into the scuffle outside of the Rim, all your Seraphs started broadcasting straight to us. That included, for a short while, Terrany's biometrics."

Not waiting for Rourke to offer a question, Dr. Bushtail brought up a new graph. "I've been keeping records of all your EEG readings since Project Seraphim got started. This Merge Mode technology is still so new, we never got the chance to do a full empirical study. We've been literally writing the book on it since this war started, and Terrany's been filling up chapters of it all on her lonesome."

"She was, yes." Rourke admitted.

"No. She still is." Sherman cut him off brusquely, and Rourke raised an eyebrow. Dr. Bushtail tapped his monitor. "Look. Her performance was steadily climbing. The attack on Ursa Station?" He hit a dot just above the 70 percent line. "And here, that's during the nuclear attack you all foiled at Lunar Base." It skewed a little higher. "Then there was the Armada you all took on at Sector Y, when we got a wing from this mothership shot off…Her synch rate ballooned there. That's when she started to have serious problems with coming back down from it…synaptic overload, like the bends after diving too deep and coming up too fast."

"Yeah, I remember." Rourke said impatiently. "But she worked on that. She trained herself so damn hard, synaptic overload wasn't an issue anymore."

"Yeah." Dr. Bushtail grunted. "She taught us that your minds were as flexible as your muscles; they could be trained to handle the strain of Merging. But keep watching."

The simian pressed his finger against the display, and traced the line upwards to the next dot. "Here. When you led the strike on Darussia."

Rourke blinked, looking at the number. "That can't be right."

"No. It's accurate. According to her EEG and Merge readouts…her brain was in a state of continued hyperactivity. She hit 95 percent Synch when she was trying to save you."

"That level of Synch…it's impossible." Rourke snapped. "All the data the engineers gave us at the briefings said that Merge Synch should plateau at about 90 percent, even for the best pilot."

"Maybe it's because she's got the right genetic markers for the recessive Cerinian mental abilities. Maybe it's because her AI isn't a computer program at all…it's the flash-frozen synaptic copy of Falco Lombardi's brain. Whatever the reason, Terrany blasted past every projection the development team ever made. And they thought they were being generous." Dr. Bushtail's face was as hard as steel, and he traced his finger to the last dot in the graph.

Their last mission. Rescuing her brother.

"Somehow, Terrany disabled the five-minute limiter on Merge Mode when you were dueling those Primal superfighters. I've already given Wyatt my report on that, and he's as stunned as you are. It shouldn't have been possible, but she cracked the code hardwired into the system and removed the safety protocols. So not only did she pull that stunt…but in the final moments when her Seraph was transmitting biometrics data to the _Wild Fox_…"

Dry-mouthed, Rourke finished his sentence. "She hit one hundred and twelve."

"112 percent Synch rate. And yes, I checked to see if the computers had thrown a loose variable to get that number. Diagnostics came up clean. The number's accurate."

Rourke leaned back in his chair, his mind swimming. "So…what does this mean, exactly?" He asked, looking to the doctor. "What happened with her?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." The doctor shrugged. "Maybe Terrany just redefined what's possible, and the entire Synch measurement scale needs to be reworked for better accuracy. Or maybe the scale's accurate, and…Creator only knows. The fact is, the only person who could tell us exactly what it felt like, who could give us any information on it has been captured. We may never know what happened in that cockpit."

"Do you have a guess what might have happened, though?" Rourke pressed him. Dr. Bushtail hesitated to give an answer, and Rourke leaned forward. "Come on. What's your best guess?"

"I don't have educated guesses for this situation." Dr. Bushtail said quietly. "I do have worries, though. She took off the five minute limiter. After that…"

"What?" Rourke demanded, panic welling up in his throat. "Tell me!"

* * *

_The Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_Detention Center 8_

Telemos Fendhausen of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance was not in a particularly good mood. He had been roused in the dead of night by stone-faced security agents and then ordered to dress quickly and prepare for a trip, per orders from the Tribunes. Though they had resisted his attempts to eke more information out of them, one thing was clear: He was going alone. Wherever they were taking him, it wasn't to fly his Phoenix in combat.

He found himself in the back of a hovertransport racing across the still mostly barren wastelands of their homeworld, surrounded by the same silent unmarked troopers who had woken him in the first place. Still trying to wake himself up, Telemos tried to gauge how far they had traveled. It was a good distance from the Hall of Antiquity, and the sprawling Primal headquarters that had been erected in and around their buried ancestral sanctum.

Finally, the vehicle came to a halt outside of a prison facility. The construction wasn't Primal in design, which means it was commandeered. A guard opened the door and Telemos stepped out, frowning. "All right…what are we doing here?"

A Primal in a very distinctive uniform walked out from the prison, and Telemos instantly went rigid. The man was a Geasbreaker.

The Geasbreaker smiled and extended his hand out to Telemos as he came near. "Captain Fendhausen. Thank you for coming out this way. I'm Geasbreaker Rolfe."

"I follow the orders of the Tribunes." Telemos answered stiffly, shaking Rolfe's hand for as long as he could stomach it…two heartbeats. He pulled his hand back. "Am I to be interrogated?"

"What? Oh, no. No, you're not my prisoner of interest." Rolfe answered quickly. "You're here because I need your expertise. It is my belief that you may be able to help me with my subject." He stood to the side and held a hand out invitingly. "Please, come inside."

Telemos was ushered through the deathly quiet complex and taken towards a series of rooms set aside for visitors and interviews. The Geasbreaker stopped him and stood blocking one of the doors. "Some final instructions, Captain Fendhausen. Try to keep the prisoner talking. Anything they say, however innocuous, may be of benefit to my report."

Telemos was no fool. On the long walk through the prison, he'd been contemplating just why exactly a Geasbreaker would need his "expertise", and he had formed the conclusion that it was because the prisoner was a pilot. His heart had started racing at that. If it was a pilot, and a prisoner…

"It's the Pale Demon." Telemos said, less of a question and more of a statement. The Geasbreaker didn't react to the observation, and that was just as telling. "I was told that I could not see her."

"The Tribunes needed…convincing." Rolfe harrumphed. "Regardless. Remember your instructions." He stepped to the side. "We will be recording, and I'll be watching from the next room."

"No privacy?"

"Privacy is not of great concern to the Lord of Flames and his loyal servants." Rolfe said, lifting an eyebrow. "Why should it concern you?"

Telemos gave the man a half smile and moved through the door before the rage burning in him became visible.

Inside, Terrany McCloud looked like death warmed over. She had been stripped of all but the barest scraps of clothing, and her body showed clear signs of torture. Fur was singed and burned along her legs, the flesh underneath was discolored and swollen from bruising, and there was a long gash along the side of her face, with the pale fur around it matted with blood. She looked up as he entered, and Telemos nearly stopped walking when he saw how red her eyes were. She had suffered more than sleep deprivation.

She was chained to the table, and the manacles which kept her from raising her hands more than a foot above the surface had chafed at her wrists. Cracked lips parted, and in a raspy voice that was a far cry from the strong tone she had used in their last battle, Terrany McCloud finally spoke.

"So who are you supposed to be? The good cop?" Telemos observed her quietly, and Terrany sneered at him. "Or did that son of a bitch decide it was time to share the prisoner with the guards?"

Fendhausen's nostrils flared at that. The Geasbreaker had violated her? Physical and mental torture were one thing, but he hadn't expected that. Of course, he should have, he berated himself. She was a female, after all. Females were accorded little status in their culture. His heart argued with his mind over it, though. He couldn't figure out why. Was he more upset that the Geasbreaker had molested her, or that he hadn't been given the opportunity himself?

"Go to Hell." Terrany scowled, looking away.

At last, Telemos found his voice. He sauntered over to the table and sat down in the chair opposite of her. "I have already been there, McCloud. My Hell was of your making."

Fatigue and trauma were clouding her thoughts, but Terrany slowly began to recognize and react to the sound of his deep timbre. Her head came back around, and she stared at him. "I know you."

"I would be upset if you didn't, Pale Demon. This is our third meeting."

"Telemos." Terrany spat the name out. She laughed bitterly and gave him a wry grin. "Well, well. Living high on the horse, eh? Why not?"

"My name and title have been restored to me." Telemos told her coolly. "I am once again a Fendhausen, of the Sixth Noble House of Radiance."

"There's nothing noble about you, scum." Terrany scoffed. "You lay in wait and ambushed us. You and your men attacked an unarmed transport. That's the act of a coward."

Telemos's hand came across the table and slapped her so hard that her head slammed backwards and sideways. The ringing crack of the blow echoed around the room, and Telemos fumed, standing halfway up.

"If you were any other female, McCloud, I could have killed you on the spot for that remark."

She grunted and pulled her head back down. A cool, calculating look came over her. "I see. Your kind doesn't like women, eh?"

"Women are good for two things. Entertainment and breeding." Telemos snapped at her, holding to the lesson that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"If you really believe that, then you are going to lose this war." Terrany told him. "Because I've kicked your ass twice. Your kind fears me so much you gave me a nickname. A woman…a WOMAN…is your most feared adversary. Whatever they teach you, your education is lacking."

"You believe we will lose?" Telemos stared at her, eager to find the upper hand in the argument to shut her up. "We have unearthed a weapon that will make my Phoenix starfighter I battled you in look like a child's toy. Your kind is doomed."

"Funny thing you should know about us Lylatians." Terrany countered. "You back us into a corner, we fight twice as hard. We're defending our homes, our families, our lives. When you go up against Starfox, the invaders always get their ass kicked."

"This is our home too. Didn't you know that?"

"Yeah, we knew that." Terrany told him nonchalantly. "Your DNA's about the same as ours. But here's what I wanna know. If this is your home, Telemos…why did your kind leave in the first place?" She leaned as far forward as her chains allowed and stared at him defiantly.

"Do you want to debate our religion, or are you merely goading me into striking you again?"

"Would it make a difference?" Terrany rolled her eyes. "You know, I thought you'd be happy to see me like this. In chains, a prisoner, the walking dead. But you're the opposite. You're angry about this, aren't you?" His eyes burned into her, and she smiled. "That's it, isn't it? I'm right. You absolutely hate this situation."

"I came here to interrogate you, McCloud. Don't you dare presume to interrogate me."

"Two way street, Telemos. It takes two to fight." She sized him up thoughtfully. "The first time we met, I let you live. The second time, I was hitting every piece of junk you were throwing at me. When you came at me outside the Rim, you fought like you were possessed. Now…Did you really think you could have beaten me?"

"I have done nothing but train and train and picture a thousand ways I could kill you since our first duel!" Telemos screamed at her. "I would have defeated you if the Armada had not arrived!"

"And because your buddies all showed up…you'll never know." Terrany stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Was it really that important?"

"They will kill you when they're done with you. They will drag you out on display and execute you for all your kind to witness." He said, trying to change the subject.

"And you'll still never know who the better pilot is. Even after I'm dead…it's going to eat you alive." Terrany reclined back, seeming almost disappointed. "If you keep chasing after ghosts, Telemos, you'll never reach your real potential. Maybe you were right. You are in a hell of my making."

"You are a witch, Pale Demon." He said, severely shaken by her condemnation.

Terrany gave him another cryptic smile. "You think I'm bad…just wait until you see Carl. They got him back, in spite of all your scheming." Her smile faded. "The Primals will kill me, but they'll get nothing from me. And after I'm gone, you'll still have to worry about McClouds, Starfox, and the Arwings. You tell your bosses that."

Telemos mutely nodded, stunned afterwards that he had given the gesture. Brooding, he searched her face. "Were you so sure you would have beaten me?"

"Nothing is ever certain." She told him, with a wisdom that seemed years beyond her experience. "But I would have died proving it."

"As would have I." Telemos replied softly. Primal and Lylatian looked at one another, and with no cockpits, no fighters, no battlefield between them, something akin to a moment of respect passed between them. "Why didn't you kill me when we first fought? You have never given any other opponent the same level of mercy as you did me."

Terrany considered the question, and Telemos went on. "Did you leave me with my life in ashes to spite me?"

Terrany shook her head. "No."

"So why did you then?!"

She chuckled at his desperate rage. "Figure it out yourself, Fendhausen. If you can." Terrany leaned back, closed her eyes, and tuned out the sound of his hard breathing. Pushed to his limit, Telemos stood, grabbed his chair, and hurled it against the opaque, one-sided mirror behind him with a wild scream. A spiderweb of cracks spread out from the point of impact, and he stormed out of the room.

Geasbreaker Rolfe met him in the hall, looking sour. "I could have done without the tantrum, captain. You're said to be one of our best, I didn't take you to be prone to fits of violence."

"The interview's over." Telemos snapped at him, storming away. "Even now, she still plays games with me."

"Yes, but you got something out of her, at least. I think you did." Rolfe kept pace with the angry pilot. "Tell me, who did she mean…Carl?"

"There was a crippled Arwing broadcasting a distress signal beyond the outer Rim of this system. I noticed it on the sensors and deployed my squadron to lay in wait, assuming that the other Arwings would come to rescue it. That wager proved to be correct."

"Ah. I see. And this Carl must have been in that damaged Arwing, then? And…you let them recover him?" Rolfe asked accusingly. Telemos whirled on him in a flash.

It was all so sudden that the Geasbreaker didn't let out a yelp until the back of his head bounced off of the wall. Telemos held him by the front of his uniform, pressing him hard against the wall with his hot breath burning into the Primal's face.

"We LET them do nothing. We fought our hardest. And if you ever make another accusation like that again, Geasbreaker, I swear to our Lord that I will personally tie you to the back of my plane and fly through the upper atmosphere." The threat caused Rolfe's eyes to widen in fear, and for the first time, he saw the caged, feral beast inside of the celebrated pilot.

And he feared it.

Telemos bared his teeth and smashed Rolfe against the wall once more. "Torture her. Do your job. But violate her again, and I will make that death by suffocation and hard vacuum seem a mercy. And I will know if you have. You cause pain and terror in your enemies. I _kill_ mine. Do not for a moment, think yourself superior to me. Understood?"

"Y…yes…"

"Yes, _what¸_ you miserable worm of a Primal?!"

"Yes, Captain!" The Geasbreaker got out through his grinding teeth. Telemos let go, and Rolfe slid halfway down the corridor wall before he caught and righted himself. Telemos was already gone by the time he cleared his blurry vision.

The Geasbreaker fumed and stared down the hall he'd vanished through. He'd considered Telemos a means to an end. Now, though…

"So, you wish me to be an enemy to you? Very well…_Captain._"

* * *

Telemos Fendhausen endured the ride back to the Hall of Antiquity in tense silence. On the surface, he was everything a Primal officer awarded accolade by the Tribunes themselves was supposed to be: Proud, strong, and without fear, save for the fear of disappointing their Lord of Flames. Underneath it, the storm that had been brewing unceasingly ever since he had been shot down by Terrany McCloud had reached the breaking point. The driver and his military escorts sensed nothing amiss, save perhaps for the silence he gave off, and said nothing. Primals were not known for their ability to conduct small talk, and this trip had been one of utmost secrecy to begin with.

His uniform chafed against his hair and his skin like it never had before. His ears buzzed with the drone of an ocean that didn't exist. Telemos felt himself drifting away from it all, away from everything that had mattered, and all he saw was her bruised face. All he heard, whispered over that illusory sea, was her raspy voice.

_"I would have died proving it."_ The memory of her haunted him. There was such pain and sorrow in her face, and yet, such resistance as well. The Pale Demon wore two faces, that of the merciful warrior and the merciless siren, and they blurred together. What had she meant when she had said, _"Figure it out yourself, Fendhausen…if you can."_ The challenge was there, clear as day, but the objective of it was impossible to make out. It was like standing at the base of a wall and being told to describe the parapets hidden above it. So close, and too close to understand it. His mind ran in circles around itself, endlessly chasing that elusive tail, maddening him further and further.

At last they reached the Hall of Antiquity, and Telemos made directly for his quarters, stopping only long enough to pause and retrieve a bottle of liquor from supply: A Cornerian brand, but one with a suitably high proof. He closed the door to his room behind him, snapped out his knife, and peeled the wrapper off of the cork. He lifted the bottle up, put it to his lips, and took long swallows. Without tasting it, for it would have had no taste at all to him, he let the alcohol burn down his throat to drown out the vision of her. Or that was his plan.

But Telemos discovered something half an hour later, when he'd drank half the bottle and his sense of balance was quivering on the edge of total collapse. Some became sleepy when they drank, for wasn't alcohol a depressant? It wasn't something they covered in primary school, but he recalled that nugget from somewhere in the long years he'd served afterwards. He wasn't sleepy, though he was most definitely outside of his body.

Outside of his mind.

"Leave me alone." He rasped, grimacing and lurching forward in his chair. He pressed the heel of his palms against his forehead, swooning. "Leave me alone."

The image of Terrany McCloud refused to depart from him. _"You are in a hell of my making."_

"You bitch!" Telemos howled. "Vile, disgusting, pathetic wretch of a female, why are you doing this to me?!"

_"Did you really think you could have beaten me?" _The memory of her taunted him, sitting across his own desk. Telemos grabbed the bottle of liquor and threw it at her ghostly image with a wild shriek, and of course, the object passed through the apparition and smashed against the wall in a shower of shards and stinking liquid.

All sense having left him, Telemos stormed out of his room and made for another part of the Hall of Antiquity he had never visited until today, pausing only long enough to stop by supply to get another bottle…this time, not one containing alcohol, but peroxide.

Terrany had been appropriately informed about how the Primals treated their women: Breeding and entertainment. The Primal females set aside for breeding were accorded some measure of respect, for the future generations of warriors and servitors of the Lord of Flames came from them. But for the females of the races subjugated by the Primal war machine, only one destination awaited them. Well, two. Perhaps the lucky ones were killed off. It had been that way for tens of generations, since even before the Primal Armada had, on the orders of their Lord, set out through the cosmos to return to their distant homeworld, a homeworld they had now reclaimed. Telemos had never seen the need to question it, but neither had he taken advantage of it. He was still young, of course. For him, for the longest time, service and heroism in battle had been all he'd needed. All he had desired.

For that reason, when he burst into the slave chambers of the ancient stone temple built above and beneath the surface of the planet the Cornerians had callously called Venom, every scantily dressed female in the room turned and stared at him in fright. The way he stood put them all on edge, for there was a killing rage about him. His dark eyes scanned the room's occupants, and they all cringed away. Canines, felines, porcines and the others all shied away from his glance, but he passed over them quickly, without a second thought. To the dawning horror of the vulpines…rather, the vixens in the room…those who shared a common ancestry with the foxes of the McCloud line discovered he was fixated on them.

It took his muzzy mind all of ten seconds to find his target: A young vixen with pale brown fur who seemed to be in her late teens, perhaps early 20's. She had the same lithe lines in her form as Terrany, and nearly the same shape to her head and snout. But Terrany wasn't here, and she was.

Telemos stormed over and clamped his hand down on her wrist like a vise, and dragged her away from the others as she cried in pain and worry.

"Stop! You're hurting me!"

"I don't care." He snapped back, pulling her off to an adjoining room used by the Primals for their visits with the females. Equipped with the barest shred of what might be considered a bed and a tub for washing, it held no warmth or comfort.

Telemos threw her into the tub and tore away what little she had for her garments, and turned on the water. The force of the cold liquid knocked the breath out of her, but it became worse when he poured the peroxide over her body, and the chemical began to burn. She screamed and immersed herself in the water, which diluted the immediate pain, but also spread the chemical out to work its way over her. She tried to jump free of the tub, only to be forced back into the water by his strong hands.

"Struggle, and you die." He warned her with a growl, and she whimpered, beginning to cry.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She choked out, shattering under the humiliating violation. Telemos dunked her into the water deeper still, and before he dunked her head under, he gave her the answer.

"You're not pale enough to suit me."

* * *

_Darussia_

_20__th__ Day of the Primal War_

Captain Victor Korman, or "Viper" to fellow pilots, was a Venomian lizard not noted for his affability or his conversational prowess. In many respects, that was why the 17th "Raptor" Squadron's second in command, the jocular polar bear Gunther Nash, made such a good foil. The two complemented each other. Gunther always had a way of understanding what Captain Korman was thinking, and relating that to the other two pilots on their team in a way that Daric and Titus could understand.

Gunther found him in the cafeteria just off-base. He sat down at the lizard's table, catching his eye. Victor stared at him for a moment, then went back to his tea. That was something else about Captain Korman: He didn't drink coffee.

"Something on your mind, boss?"

"Usually." Korman said vaguely. "Did you need something, Guns?"

"Just wondering if you'd heard what we had coming up next. We've resupplied here at Darussia, but so far, the Admiral's had both us and Typhoon Squadron in a holding pattern."

"Our orders are merely to sit tight and wait."

"For what?" The polar bear demanded of his thinner, smaller commander. "For the Primals to build up enough steam to come swinging back at us?"

Viper pointedly set his mug of tea down and folded his hands together. "You know something I don't?"

"Vic, it doesn't take a master's degree from Dogwood to figure out what the Primals' next move is. We should be out there laying waste to them while we still have the momentum."

"That's just it, Gunther. We don't have the momentum now. The reason we're stuck in a holding pattern is because that fool McCloud got herself shot down and captured. We don't know what she might have told them."

That, of course, was only partially true. The other thing, which Viper hadn't been cleared to discuss with his men, was that the Joint Chiefs had suspended all offensive operations while they tried to figure out just how much damage the loss of that Seraph Arwing had inflicted on them. In other words, they were taking a watch and wait attitude, seeing what the Primals would do next. It wasn't a decision that Viper agreed with himself either, but…

"Orders are orders." Captain Korman said resolutely. "You've only got two choices when you're given one. Follow them…or hand in your wings." He looked at Gunther, waiting to see what the polar bear's reaction would be. "Understood?"

Gunther wasn't happy about it one bit, but he had the sense to offer a curt nod. "Very well…captain."

"Good." Viper picked up his tea again. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"I was thinking we might go up for some ACM during the downtime. I'd hate to let Daric and Titus lollygag around and get in trouble."

"Agreed." Korman exhaled. "All right. File a flight plan with Darussia Command: I'll authorize it. We'll get some one on three and two on two dogfighting practice in the upper atmosphere. We've been doing a lot of ground pounding and sky flying, but if trouble comes, we'll hit it off-planet first."

"Aye aye, sir." Gunther rose up and saluted, then turned and headed off before Viper could return the gesture.

Viper sipped at his tea, maintaining his outward calm. Though it had seemed Gunther was questioning their orders alone, the polar bear had only been testing the waters to figure out what was eating at his superior. He'd hit it on the head in the first try. The Primals were planning something big, they had to be. It was stupid for them to be stuck here on Darussia, when they should have been pressing ahead. Arwings had been designed as deadly spears, and they made poor shields. If one thing worried Victor Korman, it was that trouble would come when they weren't ready for it.

Hopefully their superiors got their act together in time to worry about that themselves.

* * *

_Wild Fox_

_21__st__ Day of the Primal War_

Outside of making brief appearances in the hangar bay to make sure that his overworked engineers weren't making any foolish mistakes in repairing the damaged Arwings of Starfox and Growler Squadron, Wyatt Toad had been unusually absent. He'd taken to sending his status reports electronically, instead of presenting them in person. The change had been noticed by everyone on his staff, but Ulie had quashed the mutterings with his usual charm and ferocity. The amphibian had sequestered himself into the supply room he'd claimed as his office, and remained there. The work continued with minimal input from him, which was a testament not only to the quality of the technicians who had been involved with Project Seraphim, but to the Arspace techs that Slippy had reassigned to the cause. It also said something about Wyatt's ability to lead his men with a light touch, not that he was around to witness it.

Executive Officer Tom Dander, by virtue of being the errand boy of General Grey when it suited the old hound, found himself wandering down into the hangar bay. It was a world he was only partially familiar with; Though it had been part of his coursework at Command School to be able to oversee every part of a working base, the mechanics and intricate detailing that went along with repairing Arwings, much less the newest combat capable prototypes, were light years beyond his understanding. In many ways, he'd been ill-suited for the position in that regard, but General Grey had requested him personally, for reasons that the general kept to himself.

The orange tomcat offered brief nods to the technicians as they looked up from their work, and made a beeline for the massive black bear overseeing the repairs of their precious Arwings. Ulie slid a crescent wrench into one of his work overalls' pockets and wiped his paws off on his legs before proffering one for a handshake. "Hello, sir. What can I do for you?"

Tom returned the gesture, noting that a faint trace of lubricant of some kind clung to his fur after. "The general sent me down to see how things were coming along. He's anxious to get these birds back up in the air."

"Probably more eager to get the pilots active again." Ulie observed. "Downtime has a habit of making pilots rusty."

"There is that." Tom Dander conceded. He glanced around. "The Arwings are looking better."

"They should be ready by tomorrow. These puppies were long overdue for engine overhauls anyhow, and I don't need to tell you how much trouble misaligned G-Diffuser systems can be."

"I always thought it was the body work that was the toughest."

"Used to be, until we got on board this ship. God, Wyatt's granddad really pulled out the stops when he made this rustbucket." Ulie gushed. "The SMS module's a real lifesaver in crafting parts. It helps that we can manufacture what we need here on site. So, yeah. Tell the general the original estimate stands. Tomorrow, at the earliest."

"I'll do that." Tom glanced around, pretending to note something else for the first time. "So where's your boss?"

"Ah." Ulie's smile waned. "Same place he's been for the last few days. His workshop."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, he comes out for a sandwich every now and then."

"I should make a note of this in his permanent record. Shutting himself in might qualify as dereliction of duty."

"If he were military." Ulie rumbled warningly. "But he's civilian, same as me, and same as most of the guys here. We get the job done. If he's not showing up, it's because he's working through his own shit in his own way."

"Aren't we all." Tom murmured to himself. The XO made for Wyatt's workshop, not bothering to salute the ursine mechanic. It was doubtful Ulie would have returned it anyhow. Another reason this ship sometimes irritated him; A lack of basic military discipline.

_But they aren't military, and as the general reminded you…this isn't even an SDF-owned ship. _Tom reminded himself, letting out a rumbling sigh. _Funny how things work out._

The interior of Wyatt's workshop was dark, and the motion sensors failed to trip the lights on as he walked inside. Tom's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and he narrowly avoided tripping over a box of frayed wiring and circuit breakers. "Damn!" He swore. The air inside was warmer than the rest of the hangar bay, perhaps pumped up for the cold-blooded amphibian's comfort. Glancing around, he saw that only one portion of the hijacked storage room was illuminated in the back corner. There, with a single desk lamp providing light, Wyatt Toad sat on a stool, hunched over a long, familiarly-shaped object, with the occasional crackle of a miniature spot welder breaking the silence.

"I would have thought you'd be out supervising the Arwing repairs." Tom Dander called across the darkened room.

The welding stopped when he began speaking, and after a moment of silence, Wyatt answered over his shoulder. "Ulie knows how to run the shop without me sticking my nose into it. They do better on this kind of work if I'm not there poking my nose into it all the time." He went back to his work, and Tom crossed the distance between them, weaving around tables covered by far too many spare parts and diagrams. Wyatt stopped welding when the XO stopped beside him.

"The general is worried about you."

Wyatt snorted and pulled off his welding goggles. He affixed a squinted eye up at the tomcat. "He should be more worried about his pilots."

"Without you, the pilots don't even have planes to fly."

"Yeah, well maybe the general should have thought about that before he let them sortie on gear that my guys _hadn't even finished doing maintenance on._" Wyatt said curtly. "My guys have been burning both ends of the candlestick since we got started. Fixing the _Wild Fox_ was tough enough, and no sooner do we finish that before the assets this ship supports all come back with severe damage…or they don't come back at all. Damnitall, Milo's ship was nothing but a scrap heap! We had to refit that Seraph from nose to tailpipe!"

Dander said nothing, letting the amphibian fume. The trick worked, because Wyatt let out an exasperated grunt and looked away. "How's everyone doing?"

"Well, mostly they're keeping an eye on Carl."

"Yeah."

"His mother's here now."

"What? Mrs. McCloud? When did that happen?" Wyatt was surprised by the news.

"A couple of days ago. General Grey gave her a room. This ship is only running about half its maximum occupancy, after all. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

"Yeah. Well, I've been busy." Wyatt offered up in excuse.

The XO took a closer look at the project on Wyatt's lit workbench. "Is that one of those floating cameras?"

"A Godsight Pod? Yes, it is." The side of the device was cracked open, revealing the entire inner housing.

"Looks a little bigger than I thought."

"That's because this one isn't your average Godsight Pod." Wyatt explained. "I've been fiddling with the idea for a while now. I figured, if we could put a camera on these puppies…why couldn't we fit a gun in them too?"

The XO rather liked the idea himself. "Is it working?"

"Work in progress." Wyatt said. "We power the GSPs with a miniature Cornite energy cell, but the drain of a weapons system is prohibitive. I either need to make an entirely new battery with an energy density greater than ten to the third power…Or I need to figure out how to miniaturize hyper laser cannon components to use less energy while still maintaining the output beam integrity. The second's a real bitch: The Kelversen Lensing Effect rears its head every time you adjust the capacitance band."

"Er…I'll take your word for it." Dander said, frazzled by the concepts Wyatt threw around so casually. "How come you've never mentioned it in your status reports?"

"We've been a little busy keeping all the things you and the Starfox team keep breaking up and running. Theoretical mechanics have taken a backseat to more practical matters." Wyatt drummed a webbed hand on the desk. "Besides. I'm only going to bring something up if we can get it working right. The Modular Weapons Bay worked, so we put it in. I'm not putting any equipment on these Arwings if I can't test and approve it myself."

"Fair enough." Tom nodded. "Just do me a favor. Get out of this office a little bit more, would you? You've got people worried about you."

Wyatt made a face. "People should worry about other things. Like Terrany. Or Carl. Any change in his condition?"

"Still a vegetable."

"Any way to knock him out of it?"

"No, according to Dr. Bushtail, he has to get himself out of it. All we'd do is hurt him worse by trying."

"I guess that's their mom's here…a familiar voice to pull him back from the brink." Wyatt got up from his seat and stretched. "I'm thirsty. You want some coffee?"

"No thanks." XO Dander refused the offer. "I drink any more, and there'll be more coffee than blood pumping through me."

"Heh, don't I know it!" Wyatt chuckled. He stretched out his back, then meandered over to a side table and flipped another desk lamp on. It illuminated a small coffee machine, half full and kept on warm. "But I need it." Wyatt picked up a dusty mug, blew it out, then poured himself a cup. "They say that people in comas can hear what goes on around them. S'why doctors encourage family and friends to visit them as much as possible. Maybe hearing them makes them want to come back quicker."

"Maybe." Dander walked around in the somewhat brighter room and noticed a large blueprint plastered on the wall. Though the image was faint from a distance, when he drew nearer to it, the white lines on the blue paper grew clearer. "Is this the blueprint of an Arwing?" He asked, identifying the recognizable shape of it. No other craft looked quite like an Arwing, with its trademark G-Diffusers clamped onto the medial end of the wing pylons and its arrow-like shape.

Wyatt sipped at his coffee, frowning. He didn't say anything, waiting for Dander to go on.

"It's a damn fine ship. There are times I forget your great-grandfather designed the original model as much for aesthetics as function."

"Function and aesthetics go hand in hand, that's what Grandpa Slip always tells me." Wyatt agreed. "He was so pissed off when the SDF refused the Draw Effect upgrades for their fleet of Model K's."

"Well, you re-installed the devices on the 21st Squadron's jets, so you got a little bit of payback there." Tom smiled.

_They're called hyper-gravitic motivators, you clod._ Wyatt thought, but didn't say. Dander looked a little closer, and began to blink. _Ah. Now you're starting to see it, aren't you? Some nugget of minor intellect is creeping into that combat-crazed mind of yours._

"This doesn't look like the Model K. Is it the Seraph?" Dander brought a finger up and traced some of the technical specs along the right side of the image. "No…that's not right, either." The orange feline turned and looked to Wyatt. "What am I looking at here?"

"Something Grandpa Slip gave me before he and my dad flew back to Corneria." Wyatt explained. "It's just a rough idea right now. I haven't had the time to really stare at it, and I've been busy with this modified Godsight Pod to begin with."

"Is it a Mark 2 for the Seraph?"

"More like a Mark Omega." The chief engineer shrugged. "Granddad mentioned in his notes that it was the Arwing to beat all other Arwings. I really think he was just tossing every piece of junk he could into it. Still, putting the same kind of power source into it that the _Wild Fox_ uses…it opens up a lot of possibilities."

"Why haven't you brought this up to General Grey yet?" XO Dander demanded. "This thing could change the tide of the war."

"One, impulse vacuum drives don't grow on trees, and I've never tried to make one before. Two, if you could understand the technical garble on that page, you would have realized that this newest Arwing design not only includes Merge Mode, but it's heavily dependent on it." Wyatt took another sip of his coffee. "ROB forwarded me the latest Synch ratio data from our pilots yesterday. Nobody we have can manage the level of Synch required to handle this thing effectively."

Dander caught the unspoken message. "Nobody we have…but Terrany could have?"

Wyatt offered up another shrug.

It was hard to say.

* * *

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

_The Hall of Antiquity_

Grandflight Gatlus was summoned to the Tribunal Chambers at least once every two days, more often if there was some pressing need for his presence. This was one such occurrence, and a soldier did not disobey an order of attendance given by the Tribunes. The old ace pilot had learned to play things safe in matters of politics.

"The excavation of the Worldbreaker continues in earnest." Tribune Holtzford announced, which was not news to Grandflight Gatlus. The Armada had been bursting with the news of the ancient ship's rediscovery, just where the Lord of Flames had promised them it would be. Primal workers and Simian labor, their converted wayward cousins, had been making rapid progress. "We expect, Grandflight, that it will be fully uncovered in sixteen hours."

That was news to Gatlus. The old Primal lifted a furry eyebrow. "Really? Well." He did not pose a question, as he expected the Tribunes would tell him more without his input. It did not pay to seem even the slightest bit impertinent to the leadership.

"We have had our technicians working inside since we first were able to reach an access hatch. The ship has been slumbering for a long time, but with some coaxing, it is awake again, and fully functional. We intend to deploy the Worldbreaker as soon as it is free of its tomb, and turn the tide of this foolish war of resistance the Cornerians lead." Valmoor Gatlus nodded, but kept his tongue. "In your role as supreme commander of our aerial fighter forces, we would like you to assist us."

"How may I be of service, Tribunes?"

"The Worldbreaker will sail with a small portion of our remaining Armada. The bulk of its defenses will be unmanned Splinter drone fighters, but for the sake of morale and demoralizing the enemy, we would like to send two of our elite squadrons to go along. The mechanized divisions cannot always anticipate the moves by our opponents, and we have good intelligence that our first target has two squadrons of Arwings stationed there."

Gatlus blinked. That could only mean they were attacking Darussia, the world recently liberated by Starfox and their allies. "Well. In that case, I would recommend…Sunder Squadron and Eclipse Squadron. They are captained by Kallan Fuchs and Orton Gral, respectively. Their flights did very well in the battle training held here some days ago."

"As did Captain Hachsturm and Meteor Squadron, according to an earlier report." Another Tribune called out disdainfully. Gatlus was easily twice the Tribune's age, but the arrogant bastard was an Elite Primal, primarily hairless. Most Elites had an attitude of superiority. Simios had been that way as well. "I wonder, Grandflight, at this council's wisdom of relying on your presumed expertise for this decision."

"Enough, Tribune Westphal." Tribune Hillers spoke, and the room went silent. Tribune Hillers was the most senior of the Tribunes, and when he spoke, the others listened. "Grandflight Valmoor Gatlus has served the Primal Armada with honor and distinction since before you were born." The elder, normal Primal turned his head sideways to bore his steely gaze on the young Westphal. "Captain Hachsturm and Meteor Squadron fell because they gave way to hubris. Overconfidence was their doom, especially that of Simios, who believed he could face the Pale Demon alone and win. His own sense of superiority is what killed him, and that is something Gatlus could not control. For you to imply any misdoing on Valmoor's part is to insult the honored troops who fight for our Lord…And it is also telling of your own faults." He concluded, letting the others, and especially Westphal, draw the line between the hubris of the dead Simios Hachsturm and the Elite Tribune. Westphal's face burned bright red from the chastisement, and he fell silent, fuming. Hillers ignored the man's funk and turned back to Grandflight Gatlus. "Please, continue, Grandflight. You were telling us of these two squadrons who will fly with the Worldbreaker, I believe?"

"Yes, Tribune Hillers." Gatlus said, as proper as ever, but inwardly smiling. Though he could not say what he'd wished to Tribune Westphal, the job had been done admirably by someone the Elite could not order executed at the firing line. "Captain Fuchs and Sunder Squadron have always distinguished themselves as excellent shock troops. They strike hard and fast, and their efforts in the opening days of the war secured a critical victory over the planet of Macbeth, which is now turning out munitions, ships, and supplies for the Armada. Captain Gral, as you may recall, was the first unit to secure the airspace over Venom in our initial push. He was awarded the Flaming Silver Cross for his heroism in the face of determined enemy resistance, and personally shot down nine Arbiter-class spacefighters…and one Model K Arwing which got up into the air before our battle cruisers bombarded their planetside airbase."

The reminder of their achievements earned a murmur of approval from the Tribunes, and Tribune Hillers nodded. "Such brave and capable men will certainly prove useful in the battle to come. So be it, Grandflight. We shall leave it to you to issue the orders to those squadrons."

"As you wish, Tribune." Gatlus bowed. "It shall be done."

"Very well. You may go and see to it, then. This session of the Tribunal Council is hereby closed." Hillers tapped a stone against a small bell, sounding the meeting's end. Gatlus kept to his bow until he had taken three steps back, then turned, rose slowly, and marched out of the darkened room.

He was stopped out in the hall by Tribune Holtzford, who had begun the meeting. The middle-aged Primal was also an Elite, with graying black hair atop his head which he kept tied back in a braided knot, and sparkling brown eyes. "Grandflight Gatlus, a moment?"

"Certainly, sir." Gatlus agreed. Holtzford smoothed out his ceremonial vestments and strolled down the hall, keeping to an easy pace for Gatlus. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering, Valmoor, why you did not recommend Phoenix Squadron for the assignment."

Gatlus blinked, then tried to mask his cringe with a smile. "Ah, yes. Well, Phoenix Squadron certainly has proven themselves capable in their recent skirmish, but I believed that they had earned a heroes' rest. Though they have not been on the front lines since the sneak attack on our homeworld by Starfox, they have been training themselves and their planes mercilessly…and there is still much about these advanced spacefighters of theirs we are learning about. Given how critical the task is, I believed it would be better to deploy fresher units, and both Sunder and Eclipse are well versed in space combat. Their upgraded Helion fighters offer fewer question marks for safety and reliability."

"I see." Holtzford mused. "A very thorough, and well thought out answer. Perhaps…scripted." He searched Valmoor's face. "When I last saw Captain Fendhausen, he looked upset. Is everything all right with him?"

"It will be." Gatlus assured him.

* * *

In a different part of the Primal's ancestral home, Telemos Fendhausen stepped into the chambers set aside for the concubines. By now, the women of the different species of Corneria knew him well. They knew he only cared for one woman to share his company. As soon as they saw him, the vixens in the room glanced meaningfully to the one huddled in their midst whom he had marked as his own; the cruel peroxide bath had bleached her fur shock white from head to toe, and though she tried to cover it up as best as she could, the mark of shame remained.

"You." Telemos said, motioning his head sideways to the private conjugal chambers. Her eyes cold, the white vixen rose, bundled her robe tight around her body, and walked ahead. Telemos followed in her wake, and they entered the small chamber.

For three days straight, Telemos had been visiting this one. She went into a side room, he came in after her, and closed the door. She moved to the cot set aside for rutting and placed herself on the edge, watching him.

"You can relax." Telemos told her. "I'm not here for that."

"You're the only one who isn't." The vixen told him sullenly. "Ever since you did this to me…the others have been choosing me more often."

Telemos's jaw went rigid. "Have they been hurting you?"

"Why do you care?" She rebuked him. Telemos fumed for a little bit, then dug into his flight jacket and pulled out a flask. He popped it open and downed a swig, then held it out towards her.

"Care for some?"

"I don't drink Primal liquor."

"This is a Cornerian vintage, I'm told." Telemos said, unruffled. She made a face, but got up and took it from him, trying a small bit. It had hints of sweet wildberries in it, a reminder of happier times. She didn't know whether to smile or cry, so she did neither, and let the warm liquid slide down her throat, and handed the flask back to him.

"Why am I here?" She asked Telemos. The Primal fighter pilot stared at her. "I'm not here for your sexual gratification. You haven't touched me once. You just…you made me a freak. Why?"

"Because when you look like this, you remind me of someone." Telemos admitted, the words coming easier. Somehow, he felt like he could open himself up to this woman. "Someone I can't get to now."

"So I'm what, a substitute? Do you know how screwed up that sounds?" She put her hand against her forehead. "You're sick in the head."

Telemos didn't know how to answer that. He couldn't deny it…there was an ache and a dull drone that wouldn't go away. He knew he was a mess, and he didn't know how to change back.

"Who is she, anyways?" The concubine broke his reverie.

"Who?"

"This woman I'm supposed to replace?"

"…a pilot." Telemos forced out. "My rival." He took another drink, glad for the strength of the alcohol. He'd never been much of a drinker before Terrany, either. Now, though, he relied on the crutch constantly, needing its numbing touch. "But now she's a prisoner, and I'll never be able to fly against her again."

"Isn't that a good thing?" She prodded him. Though there was a trace of bitterness, she also seemed curious. "For you?"

"For the Armada, certainly." Telemos breathed. "She…she was the most dangerous pilot that your troublesome military had. We call her The Pale Demon. I fought her once here in the skies. She killed one of my men, and shot the other four of us down." He spun the flask around, hearing the dark purplish liquid inside slosh. "She spared me, and condemned me in the same moment. I should have been executed for my shameful defeat, but instead, I was stripped of what honor I had left…and told to hunt her down. So I did." His face curled into a snarl. "And then, just as I was fighting her again…the Armada appeared, and robbed me of my vengeance." He threw back another slug to punctuate the rage he felt.

The concubine stared at him. "So you punish me because you can't kill her? Creator above, that's messed up. Are all Primals as insane as you?"

Telemos looked at the ground silently. The bleached vixen leaned back on the cot and breathed. "Whatever. I'm not here to make you a happy, well-adjusted murdering son of a bitch. I wish you all would have never come."

"This is our home." Telemos said, a bit of his old fire returning. "We fight to reclaim it."

"What, you couldn't have asked?"

"A house cannot hold two fathers." The old Primal adage came to his lips easily. "We told your people to take to the stars, to leave. This system is ours. This war continues because you needlessly throw your lives away."

"The Lylat System is our home, too." The concubine insisted. "We'll never stop fighting. Are you Primals really ready to kill us all? You willing to pay the price and the hell it'll take to make your delusional dreams come true?"

_You're in a hell of my making,_ Terrany's voice echoed in Captain Fendhausen's mind again.

"We all endure our own hells." Telemos resolved, and drank again. "If you had your choice, would you prefer this, or to be executed?"

"…Do you want to kill me?" She tilted her head towards him.

"No." Telemos quickly replied.

"Then why am I here?" She jerked herself off the bed and stared at him. "Why are you here?"

Telemos looked at her, and caught his reflection in her eyes. He looked hollow, bereft of all life.

"I don't know." He whispered.

* * *

_Darussia_

_Tanager City Outskirts_

"All right, bring 'er in." The deck officer of the _Seagull_ class interstellar transport waved the few remaining Landrunner tanks up the ramp and into the hold of the flattened ship. The last up the ramp commanded the attention of everyone present; the Landmaster piloted by the Reservist Major Avery "Ironbeak" Boskins and his gunner, Geoffrey. The mole had his head popped up out of the hatch to watch the procedure as his superior handled the driving.

"I guess it's back into space, then." The mole said forlornly.

"Cheer up, private." Boskins chuckled, using his screens to guide his controls. "I'd wager a guess they have the next target all lined up. You'll get plenty of time to get your boots on the ground yet." He patted the side of his seat. "Lylus, I love this tank."

"Yeah. The _Ground Fault_ really took it to the Primals." Geoff admitted. "I'd have never thought I'd love anything more than our Landrunner, but…you proved me wrong."

"Son, if we'd have had a battalion of these outside of Corneria City instead of the Landrunners, we wouldn't have needed Starfox to come save our asses." Ironbeak Boskins snorted. "We could have done the job ourselves." He sighed, tired. "We would have had fewer losses as well."

"You think that they'll make more Landmasters, then?"

"I don't think they'd be able to make them fast enough to make a difference…and even then, finding drivers who know how to handle them?" Boskins gave his head a shake. "Nope. It'll just be us for a while."

"Will all our missions be like this one was?" Geoffrey asked nervously.

The Landmaster pulled up into the transport, and as the rear hatch closed in on them to pressurize the loading bay, Major Boskins couldn't help but crow.

"Negative, Geoff. Some will be even crazier."

* * *

_CSC_

_Corneria City, Corneria_

General Kagan stared at the feeds from the spysats around the Lylat System, forming a picture of what was happening in Primal held territory. He added it to the mental list of what he knew already.

Every world that the Primals touched down on, they fumigated. Starfox had been lucky to free hordes of prisoners on Papetoon. They had images of their citizens on Macbeth and Fortuna being used as slave labor in a limited capacity, but overall, the death toll was enormous. Even accounting for the fact that two-thirds of the Lylat population was either on Katina or Corneria before the invasion…It truly was genocide happening on their watch.

They had been keeping close tabs on the Primal excavation on Venom since Starfox had made their original raid. Now, it seemed like they were nearly ready to pull it out…and the EM spectrometer on the Venom-pointed spysat indicated that it was powering up.

"Damn." He leaned back away from the station and glanced to the analyst beside him. "Call the Joint Forces Chiefs, tell them I need to see them right away."

"Right away, General." The female panther nodded once. "Anything else?"

"Draft a message, and send it to the 4th Fleet." Kagan added. "Put them on alert readiness. The Primals may try something soon."

* * *

_The Worldbreaker_

_Primal Homeworld (Venom)_

The pilots of Eclipse and Sunder Squadron had been recalled from their previous deployments with great haste, and so they had arrived at the Worldbreaker excavation site with their upgraded Helion starfighters running low on fuel. Captain Fuchs, the flight lead of Sunder, tapped his fuel gauge with a finger as he began his approach down towards the enormous ship once flown by their ancestors. Enough of the rock that had encased the vessel had been removed that the upper launch bays were cleared for use, enormous hatches able of belching out entire air wings in thirty seconds' time. Following guiding running lights, he brought his starfighter down cleanly, coasting into the opened hatch and gently firing his retros to bring the ship to a standstill. It settled down on its landing struts, and he killed the engines. He'd not had enough fuel left in the ship to do more than one additional pass if he'd needed to…he breathed in relief that he hadn't needed it.

His radio crackled. _"Breaker Actual to Sunder 1. The Worldbreaker is now maintaining internal pressure, and the atmospheric locks are in place, Captain. Disembark when ready…and welcome to the Worldbreaker."_

"Acknowledged, Breaker Actual." With the tension of flying on fumes seen to, Captain Fuchs disengaged the canopy locks and waited for it to finish going up.

Hitting the flight deck, he glanced around, watching the other four pilots of Sunder Squadron touching down close to him. There were other ships about as well…normal Helions, and an enormous wealth of Splinter drones. He made a face at that. Splinters, though useful, couldn't compare to the manned fighters in the Armada. Still, with the losses they had been suffering in the war's early days…he supposed they would be seeing more and more of these.

A deck operator ran over to him, tablet in hand. "Welcome aboard, Captain Fuchs." He saluted after the fact, momentarily forgetting military order.

Fuchs returned the salute. "The Worldbreaker is coming along nicely…our ancestors truly built a magnificent ship."

"So they did. Praetor Goulfax is waiting on the ship's bridge, and asked that you report in as soon as you arrived." The deck operator handed over the small tablet so Captain Fuchs could verify the order himself. Fuchs scanned the directive once, nodded, and handed it back.

"I'm on my way then. And my men?"

"We have quarters arranged for you and the rest of Sunder Squadron. I'll be escorting your men to them here shortly, and there will be a crewman to bring you to them after your meeting."

"Very well." Fuchs glanced around. "Which way to the transit lift?"

"Ah…" The deck operator rubbed at his forehead. "Well, this ship actually doesn't use transit lifts. It has short-range teleportation pads."

"Teleportation?" Fuchs raised his eyebrows. "We have never tried such a thing."

"Our ancestors perfected it…More lost technology, from what I've been told." The deck operator pointed to a recessed wall seventy meters off which had six small circular pads, glowing, laid out in it. "Step on one, tell it where you wish to go, and you're there."

"Sorcery." Fuchs scowled. But he did as he was told anyhow, moving to the devices. He stepped on the second middle one gingerly, as though it might blow his foot off. When it didn't, Fuchs placed himself fully on it, went rigid, and uttered his instructions. "Ah…bridge?"

The world went white for a measurement of time somewhere between eternity and a heartbeat, and traces of gray swirled around him in a storm. When it cleared, Fuchs blinked his eyes in amazement, finding himself on the bridge of the massive ship.

"Sorcery." He repeated, having no other word for it. He glanced about and fixated on a Primal standing on the far right of the bridge dressed in a Praetor's uniform. So, that was Praetor Goulfax. He stepped off the teleport pad and came to attention. "Captain Fuchs of Sunder Squadron, reporting as ordered."

"At ease, captain. And come inside. We have much to discuss." Fuchs followed him in and found himself in a very strange, open structure, with an oval table and dusty chairs. Another Primal pilot in his flight uniform was already present, and Fuchs recognized him from the training they had all undergone under Grandflight Gatlus some days before.

"Captain Gral." Fuchs said stiffly. He did not hate the man, as Captain Hachsturm had despised Telemos, but there was no affection between them either. He found it strange to see him here. "Were you ordered here as well?"

"Indeed." Gral brushed a bit of debris from his jacket. "Very strange circumstances. The Praetor informed me he would tell us of our mission once you arrived. I had been expecting you sooner."

"Flying in from the jungle world of Fortuna takes longer than Macbeth." Fuchs replied, with a challenging lilt in his voice. "It is, after all, on the opposite side of the system."

"The both of you are here. That is enough." Praetor Goulfax cut in coolly. "How would you evaluate the readiness of your men?"

"Ready and able to serve the Armada and the Lord of Flames." Captain Gral said without hesitation.

"Good. Then they would be ready to fight in nine hours?" The Praetor asked meaningfully. The two captains couldn't help but share a glance. They were both slightly uneasy about the message in that question: The Primal Armada was planning something big, and the Worldbreaker was the spearhead.

"What did you have in mind?" Captain Fuchs inquired. The Praetor offered a grim smile.

"We have captured the Cornerian's best pilot, the so-called Pale Demon. That news crushed their spirits. I have come up with a plan to crush what is left of their forces. We will begin by taking back their latest victory from them."

The two Helion fighter pilots nodded at that. "So, we will be taking back Darussia, then?"

"Taking it back?" The Praetor's smile dissipated. "No. By the time I'm through with it, they'll have died defending a cinder."


End file.
